The Demise of Esme
by Kelsismom
Summary: Epilogue has been posted. Story is complete! A/U The events leading to Esme's fateful jump. Human, frail, beautiful- Esme Brooks deserved everything life had to offer. Torn by his feelings for her, can Dr. Cullen save her?
1. One Tiny Life

A/N: Hello and welcome to my very first _Twilight _fic! How nervewracking this is and so completely different from what I normally write. I expect that this should be a rather short story, possibly 3 or 4 chapters. We all know what happens in the end...Although, I'm trying to honor the storyline from _Twilight_, there may be similarities to the movie as well.

Disclaimer- I do not own _Twilight_ or any of its original characters.

"_Death is peaceful, easy. Life is hard." Isabella Swan_

**Chapter 1- One Tiny Life**

_October 28, 1920- New Orleans, Louisiana_

"Tell me how this happened."

Carlisle saw the fine, dark lines of her eyebrows meet as he bent her hand forward with the utmost care. _Pain._ As soon as he caught the expression, she quickly smoothed the skin of her forehead, smiling sheepishly as Carlisle continued to test the range of motion in her wrist. It was not broken…thankfully.

"I fell," she replied, trying to keep her tone upbeat.

_Again,_ he thought.

"I was reaching for my coat behind the door and tripped over the ottoman. I'm so clumsy," Esme explained with a laugh. She could tell by the pained expression on the good doctor's face that he was not fooled. Again, she forced another smile. The pain was not so very bad this time. Broken bones could heal, but the baby…

The rain pounded softly outside the large window, and the light was dim as he examined her. For the moment Carlisle kept his observations to himself. Her customarily flawless skin now revealed a purplish bruise forming on her left cheek. The telltale bags under her eyes indicated a severe lack of sleep, and other large blotches of bruising stared back at him from just above her knee and along her calf. Esme would not allow him to examine any further beneath her clothing, but Carlisle could imagine that the visible bruising had not been the extent of her injuries.

It was all he could do not to scream out in anger. Instead, Carlisle instructed her to take deep breaths and with gentle fingers pressed against her ribcage.

"Well?" she asked, her face clouded with worry as he quietly resumed his exam.

"Esme…" he began, choosing his words carefully. He wished for the hundredth time that he could take her away from this place, from the savage of a husband she was married to. Each visit to the Brooks' lush estate had become more painful. True, he was employed by her husband, who with his influence and wealth practically owned the thriving city of New Orleans, and while Clifford Brooks was a highly respected politician, Carlisle had learned the very ugly nature of the man. Brooks was worst than the devil himself, and for the abuse he had inflicted on this woman, Carlisle had to push away the monstrous instincts that fought for control in his mind. For countless years, he had sought to cure the ailments of man and ease the degree of human pain and suffering, but this man did not deserve to live, nor did he deserve the peace of dying…

"The baby is fine, Esme," he assured her in a soothing voice. "The heartbeat is still strong as ever…"

"Thank God," she breathed, relief filling her face. Esme had already endured one miscarriage, and in this baby, in this tiny life growing inside her, she had found the hope, the desire to live.

"You need rest and proper nourishment," Carlisle told her. _You need to leave your husband,_ he thought to say. _Get as far away from him as possible. If you stay with him neither you nor your baby have much chance of surviving…_ He mulled the words over in his head. Wouldn't it have been the responsible thing to say? In this day and age, it was unheard of for a pregnant woman to make it alone, but Esme didn't have to be…

Carlisle often wondered if he had not been so taken by her beauty if he could have regarded her as any other patient. He wondered if those ruby lips when they smiled, hadn't been so bewitching, if he would be able to make it through the endless hours without thinking of her. He wondered if the warmth in her deep brown eyes had not melted the barrier between being a human and being a vampire, if he still would have fallen in love with her.

In his centuries of life, he had never been so entranced by another woman- vampire or human. He had come to believe that he was meant to be alone…except for the companionship of Edward.

Edward was just a boy, a mere seventeen years old, and if he had been meant to survive, he would be twenty now. Carlisle had created Edward- had made the teenager a vampire as he lay sick and dying of the Spanish influenza. Carlisle's father-like devotion to him was very natural, and it was the only bond that gave the numberless years of his life any meaning…but over the past few months, after the repeated visits with Esme Brooks, Carlisle suffered from the cruelest kind of irony.

She was human. She was married…and now with no other reason or excuse to know this angel of a woman, Carlisle tended to her injuries, time after time- each time delighted to see her, each time horrified by the abuse her husband had taken on her body.

Life…it was cruel.

Esme looked at the doctor curiously as the thick raindrops pattering on the window dulled to a gentle drizzle. Dr. Cullen always looked like he had more words, but he kept them tucked safely inside his mouth, never daring to say something that may offend her. He was the kindest man she had ever known.

Since he had moved to New Orleans, many had been put off by his pale skin and youthful appearance. Youth had been commonly mistaken for lack of experience, and despite his credentials and expertise, he had been turned away by the local hospital. It was by a stroke of luck that her husband had acquired his services at all, and had, in fact, after a period of time wielded some influence in that regard. During the day, Dr. Cullen was permitted to work in the morgue, but was restricted from living patients.

The doctor's skin, cold to the touch, had never bothered Esme. He had explained it as poor circulation, warning her in advance, and so taken was she by his good and gentle nature, she had never questioned it. The pale pigment he relayed as a hereditary skin condition, and though there had been much talk of his unnatural color, Esme regarded him with the same kindness as anyone else.

Despite the closed-minded prejudices of the city's people, Esme believed Dr. Cullen to be quite possibly the most handsome man she had ever seen. His features may have well been chiseled from stone. The straight line of his nose lent an air of regality to him. Full lips taunted her with the tease of a smile, and the deep set of his golden eyes with their ethereal quality seemed to reach into the depths of her soul, lingering there and waiting…hoping…

To Esme's knowledge, Carlisle Cullen was neither married nor involved. Many times as she watched him depart the estate in the gentle hours of twilight, she wondered how it would feel to have him smile at her, to be the woman on the other end of his adoring gaze. She wondered what it would be like to love and feel loved by a man. It was easy for her to imagine how her skin would warm to the cool touch of his fingers brushing against her cheek, or how the smoldering embers of his eyes would melt away the ice in her heart, unlocking a gentle yearning within her that had long since been buried…buried by the coldest, frightful human being she had ever known- her own husband.

Born in Atlanta, Georgia, Esme had been the eldest daughter of the mayor – and, unaware of her father's corrupt and crooked dealings, soon found herself married at seventeen to Clifford Brooks- a powerful, influential man ten years her senior, whom she had not known at the time had blackmailed her father for her hand in marriage. Now, ten years later, she had inured herself to her husband's coarse nature, refusing to leave him and bring shame upon her family. The passing of Esme's father had left her mother and seven siblings dependent on Clifford's wealth, and sadly, he never failed to remind her of that fact.

Most times it was bearable, though, and more often than not, he ignored her, but it was those times when he would seek her out in the middle of the night, taking her violently in her bed that made her look wistfully upon the long disturbing scars across her wrists. The uneven lines of white marring her skin served as a burning reminder of her misery. She had been desperate then…

He refused to let her leave him, having her watched at all times, and anytime he found it appropriate to take his temper out on Esme, Clifford would quickly call on his trusted physician to tend to her injuries.

Years had passed and Esme learned in time that screaming only incited his anger, that fighting had been useless- his two hundred fifty pound bulky frame easily overpowered her delicate body. Crying had only brought a sick smile to his smug, red face. And threats to leave him were only threats…

After her suicide attempt, he began to apologize for his violent outbursts and finally promised to give her the one thing that she wanted – a child. Esme was always taught to look for the good in people, and despite the countless times he had hurt her, she always gave him the opportunity to atone for it. A year prior, Esme learned that she was with child, and for the first time in the duration of their marriage, she was truly happy. She didn't really believe that he purposely tripped her at the top of the stairs during the end of her first trimester, although the former physician had believed so. Somewhere deep inside, she liked to think that a baby would have made Clifford happy, too. Abused by his own drunken father, Clifford made a point to become a better man, to be more successful, to be respected. Now, she held onto the hope, foolish that it may be, that the difference of one tiny life could transform him, and could break the vicious cycle that her late father-in-law had begun.

* * *

Carlisle entered his home, dropping his medical bag on a table, and crossed the sparsely furnished dining area. Resuming his speedier ghostly stride up the steps, he was angry, as he always tended to be after seeing her. Esme Brooks was only one of several clients he made house calls to, and she was also the only patient of his that ever brought out this insane, irrational, and vulnerable side of his nature. A gust of air shot past Edward's doorway as Carlisle headed toward the master suite without bothering to greet the young vampire, who was sprawled out on a chaise lounge, reading one of Carlisle's medical journals.

Edward shook his head. He had already heard Carlisle's thoughts before his adopted father had even opened the front door. It had been three years since Edward had become a part of Carlisle's life. The man was a father, a teacher, a friend, and Edward had never known anything other than kindness in the paternal vampire's nature. Since the pair had relocated to New Orleans, Edward was surprised to find this rather unsettling change in the man. Despite Carlisle's frustrations, Edward had observed him to be well mannered in both actions and in words, even when his thoughts raged like a roaring fire.

He closed his book and was at Carlisle's closed door in a flash. Music rang out loudly from the other side- it was a classical piece- sad and mournful, and as of late, Carlisle seemed to prefer this piece to others in his collection.

Edward knocked gently, but loud enough to drown out the music. "Carlisle?"

Silence. So, it was to be a one sided conversation, Edward mused. Fortunately for the young man, his ability to read minds often told him what his adopted father would not have said aloud.

"Perhaps you shouldn't return to the Brooks' estate," Edward told him. He listened for a moment and then spoke again, "Clifford Brooks could easily acquire another doctor." God only knew how many doctors had grown tired of him and the vile treatment of his wife.

Edward heard the disturbing sound of glass shattering. He blinked at the commotion, and his eyebrow rose in surprise at the action. Carlisle's thoughts were becoming more unstable and Edward could hear the internal battle taking place. "I know you feel that she needs you, Carlisle, but perhaps this is too much for you to handle. Esme is _human_," he told him, stressing the last word for effect.

Another pause. "I know you know that," Edward continued, still speaking over the music. "But you can't protect her, and you _don't_ want to change her…"

Fully aware of all of Carlisle's reasons, Edward's stone body fell into a defensive stance, his palms upward in a supplicant gesture. "If you will only allow me, I will _handle_ Mr. Brooks."

Indeed, Edward was a vampire and everything that that title entailed. He was immortal, strong, invincible…and Clifford Brooks was exactly the type of scum that Edward wouldn't have minded disposing of. Sadly, he already knew Carlisle's answer before he heard him think it. "Fine," he sighed after Carlisle confirmed it. "Then we can leave New Orleans…" It was quiet again, and then Edward nodded his head in agreement. "I know. I don't want to leave yet either. Perhaps, _I _could speak to Esme…"

He listened again for a response, but Carlisle had turned his thoughts away from the dark-haired beauty, instead focusing on the comforting words of a prayer. It was a defense mechanism, Edward knew. It was Carlisle's way of telling him to leave him alone with his pain.

And, with no other choice, Edward heaved another sigh and returned to his room.

* * *

A/N: I appreciate any and all feedback. This is actually the first time I've posted a story without already having another one or two chapters written to follow. Should I continue?


	2. The Guardian

**A/N: There are a few things I would like to mention. First of all, I must thank my beautiful beta- Truckingal for her wonderful assistance and cooperation! I owe her so much! Also, I'd like to thank those of you have reviewed; I appreciate your feedback so much! Oh, and thanks to those who've put my story on alert- you are beautiful people, too! On a completely different note, I ask that you please bear with me. I've never written a period piece before, and while I'm trying to stay true to the 1920's, there is not a whole lot of specific info given on certain things. If there is anything I am mistaken about, please point it out, and I will do what I can to remedy it. Lastly, I have borrowed traits belonging to the characters- specifically _Twilight_ (the book and movie), _Eclipse_, and _Midnight Sun_. I am trying to stay as close as possible to Stephenie Meyers beloved characters as I believe they would have behaved during that time. A/U Thanks to you all for reading. **

**The Guardian**

There had been times when Edward had not considered the mind reading a curse.

Most of the time, the young vampire preferred the solace of his home, if only to enjoy some quiet- to not have to endure the intruding thoughts of others. It was enough to resist the frightful temptation of relieving the burning in his throat; the painful itch that the humans tended to bring about…the terrible thirst. Edward had believed those first two years to be the hardest. Since then, Carlisle had been careful about how and when his young son/companion should be exposed to the mortals.

Surely in a room full of unsuspecting men and women, Carlisle would never approve. In fact, Edward was certain that Carlisle would strongly disapprove of his plan altogether. Nevertheless, leaving his adopted father at home alone with his disturbed thoughts only encouraged the success of Edward's plan.

Dressed similarly to every other man, Edward wore a suit of black, but donned a wig of golden hair that hung in a ponytail below his shoulder blades. And with a black feathered mask to shield his eyes and nose, he was less likely to be recognized. A masquerade party was the perfect opportunity, and though his eyesight was superior to any human's, he utilized his gift, making his way at a careful pace around the large reception hall and followed the maze of thoughts.

It was not difficult to find a group whose negative thoughts toward Clifford Brooks would prove advantageous. Like any other politician, Brooks had skeletons in his closet, dirty secrets that were held in check by a select few. And Edward made note of each one. Fortunately, the wives of said rivals were also keen on babies, and as Edward relayed the surprising news to each about Esme's pregnancy, the women's faces all lit up in response. Indeed it had not taken long for the females to form an excited circle around the politician's gravid wife.

The young vampire's mission was clear, and though the scent of the rotund Clifford Brooks' blood was more appealing than most, Edward sought him out last. He had not faced him, instead allowing his most persuasive tone to take charge of the conversation. With a smile, Edward simply informed him of the facts.

Number one: The elite and most influential of New Orleans were now aware that Esme was with child, and with delight looking forward to welcoming the young one.

Number two: If he were to do anything to jeopardize his wife or infant's health, a list of his indiscretions would be leaked to the local newspaper posthaste, and Clifford Brooks' career would be over.

The politician, at first, was not impressed, until Edward politely apprised him of his knowledge of one or two of the most incriminating offenses and a vague whereabouts of the evidence. The man's voice was tight, frustration lacing each word as he inquired about Edward's interest in Esme's condition. It was imperative not to relay any connection to Carlisle, and fortunately there was not a soul in town who could identify Edward. The lie had to be convincing.

"My father, Dr. Coolidge was under your employ several months ago, having tended to the kind woman. The memories of the abuse you inflicted on your wife haunted him and caused him to die of a stroke. I would say that you deserve to die just for that reason. Yet, I am willing to let you live."

The man was quiet and the scent of his blood smelled even sweeter to Edward. He turned to face the criminal, glaring at him with hungry, black eyes. A growl emerged from deep in Edward's throat. Perhaps it was Edward's words, or maybe it was the instinctive doom that Brooks felt from his presence, but as the young vampire strode away at a very unearthly pace, he could've sworn that he saw the man's trousers dampen…

* * *

Edward watched as Carlisle checked and double checked the contents in his medical bag. Of course, he knew where Carlisle was headed, but could not resist asking out loud. His adopted father looked distressed and his thoughts followed suit.

"Where are you going?" Edward asked, trying to hide the sly smile threatening to curve his lips.

"To the Brooks' estate. I'm worried about Esme," he replied distractedly, stuffing the last of his supplies into the black vinyl duffel.

A dark eyebrow shot up on Edward's face. "Has Brooks summoned you?"

Carlisle snapped the bag shut and met Edward's eyes. "No. And it's very odd. I need to go and see her…how she's doing."

At that moment, Edward was very happy that Carlisle could not read _his _mind. "I'm sure Esme is fine."

The elder vampire shook his head and exhaled an unnecessary breath. "It's been three weeks since the last time I saw her, Edward. That's much longer than usual, and you don't quite understand what that monster of a husband is capable of."

"I think I do." Edward had learned enough about the man's sins to fill volumes.

Wordlessly, Carlisle's gaze turned away from the younger vampire, telling him with his mind what he was ashamed to admit aloud.

"Fine, then," Edward agreed, now stepping aside for Carlisle to make his way past. He was now only beginning to understand the depth of the man's loneliness. Before Edward had had his taste of immortality, Carlisle had faced life alone for centuries. He had been seemingly content with the younger vampire's recent companionship. Since Esme Brooks had come into his life, however, something inside Carlisle had changed. Lying dormant inside him was a deeper yearning, and Carlisle was fully aware of how impossible his desires were…

"Give Esme and the baby my best." The door closed shut behind him and Edward smiled at the absurdity of his statement.

He was sure that both Esme and her unborn child were fine. Each night his unknown presence at the Brooks' estate had proved it. Always out of sight, Edward had listened to the thoughts of Clifford Brooks, ready and willing to make good on his promise.

* * *

Purposefully he entered the Brooks' estate and was led to the usual room in which he examined her. It was a cheery guest room on the second story with an outside balcony touting a view that overlooked a large, lush garden. Carlisle nodded to the maid thankfully, ignoring the young woman's puzzled glance as she left. The light shot in dimly as the sun began to set, and Carlisle stepped away from the brightness instinctively. With medical bag in hand, he waited, moving toward a chaise lounge in the middle of the room. He heard her voice thanking the maid, and Carlisle took a breath in anticipation as Esme entered.

"Dr. Cullen," she greeted with a breathtaking smile. "To what do I owe this honor?" Her hand gently closed the door behind her.

"Esme," he breathed in surprise. "You look…" _Radiant, glorious, beautiful_… His mind was suddenly filled with dozens of other adjectives that he was forbidden to express. "Healthy."

Indeed, she stood there glowing, her cheeks pink, her eyes bright, and her lips a dazzling ruby color. Her body was draped in a fashionable frock of light blue; its high-waisted bodice only lent a slight hint of the bump that jutted out from her abdomen. In the months that he had tended to her, he could not recall her looking so…well.

Esme giggled, filled with secret delight. His visit was unexpected, and seeing his handsome face under less than dire circumstances suddenly made her feel giddy. "I guess you can say I've been less clumsy. I have a little one to think about." She set her hand on her abdomen for emphasis.

"That is why I came to see you…to see if you are…if everything is all right."

Something in her husband had changed, and Esme could only imagine that it was for the good. He had not laid one hand on her and she assumed that he had finally come to see the importance of this baby growing inside of her. Therefore, he rarely consulted with her, and as far as she was aware, Clifford was planning a trip out of town.

"Of course," she replied, tossing back a thick lock of silky auburn hair that fell just below her shoulders. Again, she smiled. The sight of Dr. Cullen's eyes arrested her. Too many times she had thought about this man, more times than was proper…

And apparently, Dr. Cullen had been worried about her…

"Oh." Carlisle suddenly found himself out of place. With no new injuries, and facing the rough realization that he had not been called to come here, his interest in being there now felt embarrassingly awkward.

Sensing his discomfort, Esme approached him. "I know I'm not due for an examination yet, but will you listen to the baby's heartbeat?"

He was already removing the instrument from his bag. "How far along are you, Esme? Twelve weeks?"

She nodded and sat on the chaise lounge, patient as he placed the trumpet of the fetal stethoscope against her abdomen. "Twelve weeks," she confirmed.

The stethoscope was only for show; his hearing could detect the young heartbeat as well as its mother's. "Perfect," he commented, pleased, also allowing his eyes to roam her bare arms beneath the sleeves for bruises. To his delight, he found none. "How's the morning sickness?"

"It stopped about two weeks ago. Now, I feel wonderful…perfect."

"I see," he remarked, "and your appetite?" He returned the fetoscope to his bag.

"Ravenous," she replied. "And I get cravings for pineapple sandwiches."

"Pineapple sandwiches?" he asked, trying to hide his frown. Even if food had appealed to him, he could not imagine the thought of mushy fruit between two slices of bread as being tempting to the palate.

"I can't get enough of them!"

"That's normal." He paused for a moment. What else was there to ask? Now, he felt like he was reaching. "And the wrist?"

Esme rubbed her sprained wrist absently with her other hand. "Better."

Carlisle suppressed a sigh, not allowing his disappointment to show. Of course he wanted for her to be healthy and happy, but with no excuse to stay his time with her was now over. He shot a smile to her as he snapped his bag closed. "I'm happy to see that you and your baby are well. Call me if you need anything." With one final glance, he gave a courteous nod. "Take care, Esme."

Her pulse began to race suddenly as he headed for the door. She wanted to stop him, to call out to him. It was true that there was nothing wrong with her, and for the moment that _was_ the problem. His name lingered on her lips, but she hesitated until he turned the doorknob; Esme was not ready for him to leave just yet.

"I have trouble sleeping."

He turned to face her then…anxiously. "Is that so?"

"Yes…well, I mean… I suppose I've had this problem for a long time." She looked down shyly as he approached her once again with that magnetic golden gaze.

"Why is that, do you think?"

"Nightmares," she told him evenly. It was as easy an explanation as any, and besides, there was no way that she would admit to the frightful anticipation of her husband's nocturnal visits. It had been over a month, but old habits still die hard…

"There are always the more common remedies," he told her, his tone strictly clinical. "A warm bath before bed, a mug of warm milk, reading…Have you ever tried any of these methods?"

"Do _you_ ever have trouble sleeping?" she asked him. She doubted it. He always looked well. Apart from the paleness of his skin, his face was always smooth and clear, lacking the creases and wrinkles found commonly on other doctor's faces. Esme could tell just by looking at the man before her with his gentle ways and chiseled features that he was not like the other doctors.

Carlisle could hardly hold back the smile threatening to curve his lips. Sleep… He had not slept in over three hundred years… "Yes," he admitted.

"What do you do?" She sat up attentively, her tone immediately taken with this new insight about the good doctor.

"I try not to fight it. And you, Esme? How do you spend your sleepless nights?"

Her dark brown eyes peered toward the door to make sure there were no prying ears. "I wander the gardens," she confessed quietly. "They are my favorite place."

Carlisle wanted to hear more. "The gardens?"

"Yes, I sneak out into the cool night air," she told him dreamily. "I sit on the stone bench and count the stars, breathing in the sweet scent of wisteria." She closed her eyes, filling her senses with the memory. "The faint glow of the moon will light up the roses, the shrubs, the arbor, and sometimes… I'll just sit and trace the constellations in mid air with my finger." Of its own accord, her index finger shot up toward the ceiling as though she were not sitting there in the private quarters, but rather gazing upward at the canopy of stars. Her eyes popped open at the silence, suddenly back to reality, and as the doctor's admiring gaze studied her, she suddenly felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. Her hand retreated back to its position on her abdomen. "That sounds silly, doesn't it?"

"Not at all." His voice was filled with awe as he watched her and the charming color in her face. She painted a beautiful picture, and Carlisle longed to be a part of it. Their eyes locked just then, and he memorized the perfect almond shape, the delicate curve of her cheekbones, and the fragile line of her jaw…

A knock at the door interrupted the spell, and Esme jumped from her seat. The maid was inquiring about the evening's menu, and with deep, but hidden regret, Carlisle bade her goodbye.

* * *

Carlisle's mood when he returned was remarkably better, and Edward was filled with satisfaction that his plan had worked out successfully. Now, however, instead of a storm of hateful, raging thoughts, a new line of thinking emerged altogether. His creator's mind now focused on a deeper emotion, an emotion which to Edward was both unfamiliar and unsettling.

Love…attraction…heat…passion…

Indeed he found it disturbing and Edward brushed it from his mind, trying instead to focus on the sound of the music coming from Carlisle's room, or on the page in his book that he was reading, or even the fly that was buzzing around the window incessantly. Anything would have been preferable to the compromising images of the politician's wife he was now seeing in Carlisle's mind.

"Carlisle!" Edward called out.

There was a chuckle. "Sorry."

Edward shook his head, sighing with relief at the direction Carlisle's thoughts had taken. It was apparent to the young vampire that he was going to have to work even harder to allow his mentor the privacy in his head. There had never been a cause before…

As he read, the hours passed late into the evening, his young brain absorbing the pages from an old classic when he heard Carlisle's thoughts once again. Edward's brows came together as he peered out the window; the moon was like a large white orb, casting a luminous glow across the city. In a thought's time, he rose to his feet. There was still an hour before he would be making his nightly trip to the Brooks' estate, and it seemed that Carlisle had his own plans.

He called out to the paternal vampire, descending the steps at his usual accelerated pace, but it was too late; the door had closed behind him and with one destination in mind, Carlisle was long gone.

* * *

A/N: Thanks again for reading and I would love to hear what you think!


	3. The Surprise

**Chapter 3 - The Surprise**

He had never intended to speak to her. For over a week, Carlisle had been content to admire her from afar. In the cool duskiness of the night, he watched as Esme emerged from her palatial estate. A thick white robe draped her lithe body, and a beige knitted scarf covered her hair and wrapped around her neck. With her hands tucked into the pockets, Esme wandered the gardens, her beautiful face a mask of serenity. For hours she strolled along the pathways, and her fingers trailed each flower, one by one. And just as she had told him, Esme would settle onto the carved stone bench and gaze up at the stars.

As Carlisle watched her trace the constellations, he felt as though he were watching a living, breathing angel. The first night he went to watch her, he remained hidden, a figure seemingly of stone behind a tall row of pine trees. He listened as she hummed to herself, thoroughly captivated by her sweet, airy tone. He watched that first night, telling himself that he would not return, that he would stay away from her at any cost, but night after night, he returned, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. In the nights that followed, he battled the temptation of going to see her, aware of how absurd it was to stalk one of his patients. But she was not just one of his patients; it was as though her very soul called out to him, and unable to resist, the doctor returned, again and again. Sometimes, he hid behind bushes, following along with her as she moved at her leisurely pace. Each night, he seemed to inch closer and closer…

Edward shook his head. Unbeknownst to the two, he remained hidden as well. His first goal was to monitor the thoughts of the crooked Clifford Brooks, and the second goal had become to watch over Carlisle. What his adopted father was doing was wrong, on so many levels. How many times had he told Edward that humans and vampires do not form personal relationships? Yet, there was Carlisle, hiding amidst the landscape like a lovesick Romeo. The young vampire did not want to intervene, and so far Carlisle had kept his distance, although not by much.

At home the elder vampire refused to talk about it. When it came to Esme, his thoughts were completely irrational, and it was not until Edward began listening to Esme's thoughts that he learned how similar to Carlisle's they were. Confined by her vows and the rules of society, Esme Brooks would never initiate anything to besmirch her marriage.

It was a good thing, though, that Carlisle could not read her thoughts. Just the idea of a human and a vampire having a relationship was ludicrous…impossible…irresponsible…

Sooner or later this was going to have to end. There were rules, after all. Edward had overheard Brooks' travel plans; a business trip to Texas for an unnamed length of time was on the horizon. And with her husband not around, Edward had hoped that this infatuation that Carlisle had with Esme would end sooner rather than later.

* * *

It was worse than Edward thought. In disbelief, he watched the next morning as Carlisle had spread out several bowls, utensils, and ingredients all over the kitchen counter. Just hours earlier the kitchen had been bare of any and all dishes or food items. Carlisle had not noticed the horrified expression on the young vampire's face, his own gaze settled intently on the print inside a recipe book.

"Carlisle!" Edward practically yelled. "What in heaven's name are you doing?!" It seemed that his mentor had finally lost his marbles. Edward stared at bags of flour, sugar, canisters of salt, two pineapples, and a few other small containers with things he had not recognized. Food was as useless to them as sleep…

Sheepishly, Carlisle turned his gaze from the recipe book and met Edward's eyes. The elder vampire, nearly three hundred years his senior was now too ashamed to speak. His eyes and thoughts begged for understanding, though, and Carlisle replied without words.

Edward tried to calm the anger he felt rising within him, but his words still emerged harsh and incredulous. "Pineapple sandwiches?"

"Esme craves them," Carlisle explained, finally speaking the words aloud as though his soft tone might appeal to his protégée's sense of understanding.

Closing his eyes, Edward sorted through his barrage of thoughts. In the three years he had been with Carlisle, his adopted father had given him nothing but respect, guidance, love, tolerance, and understanding. In return, as any son should regard his parent, he reciprocated, following him with a kind of reverence. But now, it seemed that Carlisle had taken leave of his sanity, and the roles had been reversed.

"Why?" Edward asked, trying to make the question come out without ridicule. "And I _know_ that you just told me. I want to know _why_ you are trying to prepare food for her, Carlisle."

His brows furrowed as he instantly read the thoughts behind Carlisle's guilty expression.

Edward frowned. He already knew the answer- it had been evident since the first time he had treated her. Carlisle Cullen, for the first time in his life, was in love.

Edward decided to pose another question, hoping to show him how illogical his quest was. "Why are you trying to gain the favor of a woman who is not only human, but married and pregnant?"

_I want her to be happy. She deserves it._

"Carlisle," he began calmly. "You are her _doctor_. It is _not_ your responsibility to make her happy." To Edward, this simple, logical response should have been enough to show Carlisle his error in judgment. However, it had not made any difference. The feelings brewing inside the elder vampire's mind were nonsensical, yet irrevocable, based on an emotion that Edward neither knew nor understood.

There was only silence as Carlisle gripped one of the pineapples with one hand, and eyed a big, sharp knife that was sitting on the cutting board. He hoped that with Edward's silence, that there would be no further judgment on the matter.

He looked to Edward. This was very awkward for him as well; he was the teacher, not the pupil, but still, his inexperience in this field made him feel vulnerable, and now saying the words out loud even made it sound more foolish. "Do you know how to cut a pineapple?"

Exasperated, Edward shook his head. "I don't want any part in this," he told him, and then promptly disappeared from the kitchen.

* * *

Forty five minutes later…

_Flour._

Edward handed the good doctor beside him a large measuring cup overflowing with flour, watching as he plopped it into a large mixing bowl_. _

_Salt._

Edward's finger pointed to two small cups questioningly, one filled with a small amount of salt and then one with sugar filled almost all the way to the brim, picking up one first, examining the texture, setting it down and then picking up the other. He then handed it to Carlisle, and watched as he carefully mixed the two ingredients with a wooden spoon.

There had been times when Edward had just wished he could shut down his ability to read minds. He had been reading quietly in his room, interrupted constantly by Carlisle's frustrated thoughts, his uncertainties. Humans baked bread every day, and apparently it took no special skills or talent, yet Carlisle struggled with cooking terms, textures, and scents that were completely alien to him. Whether Carlisle's feelings for Esme were right or wrong, Edward could not deny him. His adopted father had never asked him for anything. Edward joined him eventually, though he had no more experience than Carlisle, figuring that two heads were better than one.

_Sugar._

"Sugar? Why? Is this sweet bread?"

Carlisle shrugged his shoulders. _The recipe calls for sugar._

In response, Edward shrugged his shoulders, complying with his mentor's request. "Carlisle, why did you buy so many ingredients?" he asked looking at the excess of goods in their kitchen.

_Just in case._

Edward was not quite sure what he meant by that.

_Yeast._

Before Edward could ask, Carlisle responded to his next question. _It will help the dough to rise, supposedly. _His hand reached for a small bowl containing a bubbly mixture and handed it to Carlisle.

_Water._

This time, Carlisle gestured for Edward to pour the liquid on top of the mixture of yeast and powders, and the young vampire added it without further question, watching as the elder of the two stirred the ingredients, emitting splatters of flour all over their clothing as well as the counter and the floor. Carlisle turned to Edward unapologetically, now noticing the look of wonder and fascination on his flour-covered protégée's face. This was a completely new experience for the both of them.

_Would you like to stir? _

"Yes, please." Edward nodded and took the utensil that Carlisle offered and set about his task, mixing furiously and splattering even more of the mixture upon the floor and their clothing until there was little more than a quarter of what they had begun with.

Apparently they had used too much flour... Carlisle looked at the scant remains of white substance in the bowl. _Oh dear. _

_

* * *

_

An hour later, after starting again, Edward and Carlisle waited for the dough in their individual bowls to rise. As per instructions they had covered it with towels, and now impatiently were taking turns peeking underneath to check the progress.

"When is it going to rise?" Edward asked thirty minutes later as the two vampires stood there like two statues perched before the counter.

_About two hours, it says. And we should probably leave it covered._

Edward turned to Carlisle. "If we leave it covered, then how will we know if the dough has risen?"

With furrowed eyebrows, Carlisle checked the recipe again to see if he had missed anything and shrugged his shoulders. "I have no idea. I suppose we just have to wait."

_One hour and a half later…_

"What do we do now?" Edward asked, looking down at the big ball of dough before him, completely goal oriented. He had always loved to learn, and this experience had turned out to be interesting, absurd, though it was.

Eyeing the recipe, Carlisle frowned. "We have to punch it."

A dark eyebrow rose on Edward's face. "Punch it?"

_To release the gasses…and the air, I suppose._

Edward shrugged his shoulders and with not very much effort, curled his right hand into a fist that upon connecting with the dough proceeded to knock the thick ball off the counter's surface. The force sent the dough flying upward and crashing into and through the kitchen window.

In alarm, Edward turned his gaze to Carlisle, and his lips turned to an embarrassed frown. "Oops." He thought that after three years that he was in control of his strength, but there were still times…

"Carlisle, why don't you just buy bread that is already made, or ask someone to make some for you?" It was the question he had wanted to ask, but had been too interested in the process to find out. Carlisle's thoughts quickly told him the answer. "Because it has to be from you," Edward affirmed.

With a sigh, Edward turned his attention back to the recipe book and began gathering the ingredients once again. It was a very lengthy process, and they had not even gotten to the kneading and shaping. This promised to be a _very_ long day.

* * *

The two Cullens looked down at the pair of loaves of bread cooling on the countertop, baked to a delightful golden brown color- just as the recipe had stated.

"I suppose we should try it," Carlisle told Edward, taking a step back from the counter.

Edward made a face. "You're joking, right?"

"Absolutely not." Carlisle shook his head. _We can't give Esme bad bread._

The younger vampire gasped aloud. "Why _me_?"

"Because I'm close to three hundred years old, and my sense of taste is long gone, but yours…"

"Fine," Edward cut in, his brows knit into a furrow. "But I'm not going to like it."

* * *

The sun was setting in the sky, and the rays of daylight were beginning to slip from the window. Spread out across another counter was a total of ten loaves of bread. Each had one end sliced off.

"What do you think?" Carlisle asked Edward as his adopted son took a reluctant bite from the last two loaves, and then promptly spit them out into a trash can.

"I don't know what to tell you, Carlisle. They are _all_ varying degrees of disgusting," Edward told him, scraping his tongue with a cloth.

Carlisle sighed. "Which one is the least disgusting, then?"

Edward peered along the long line of loaves, his finger pointing tentatively to each one until it finally settled on the very last one. "I think _this_ one is the least repulsive."

It was difficult for them to judge the actual taste of the bread, and after concluding that there was not time to consult any humans, and having faith in their careful preparation, Carlisle decided to trust Edward's judgment. It had appeared aesthetically pleasing...

At long last it was time to prepare the sandwich. Edward carefully sliced the bread, and Carlisle took the least butchered slices of the pineapple that he cut into. Gingerly, he placed two cracked fruit slices and placed them inside the oversized slices of bread, securing the sandwich into a cardboard bakery container. He then retrieved a long red ribbon and tied it to the box, his smile boasting an unmistakable look of pride.

"Now what are you going to do?"

In a flash, Carlisle disappeared, reappeared, and then handed an envelope to his assistant.

Apparently, he had already thought this through. After reading the brief handwritten note in Carlisle's perfect script, Edward replaced it back inside the envelope.

"At midnight, I'm going to her garden and will leave it on the stone bench."

* * *

Esme looked down at the white box tied with a big red ribbon. Her gaze drifted in each direction, hoping to find the person responsible. Her pulse raced in surprise at the sight of her name on the envelope on top. She was smarter than to think that this gift could possibly be from her husband, but who else would offer such a gesture? Her curiosity was in overdrive as she removed the card from the envelope. The words were barely readable by the dim light of the half moon, and she had to strain her eyes to read the note.

_I hope that you and the baby enjoy this._

_Fondly,_

_A Friend_.

She placed the card down, lifted the box, and untied the bow, excited as a kid at Christmas. At that moment, she had no idea who this friend could be, and when Esme found the sandwich with bits of pineapple sticking out from the sides, an excited squeal escaped her lips.

A warm blush spread throughout her entire body, and once again her gaze moved along the landscape, slowly this time in search of the giver, but to no avail. She sat down on the stone bench, holding the sandwich in her two hands and took a big bite.

* * *

Hidden behind the trees, Carlisle and Edward watched as Esme Brooks enjoyed every last crumb of their labor.

_She's smiling, Edward. She likes it!_

Edward smiled to the vampire beside him. The whole situation was utterly ridiculous, but still it pleased him that this gesture had made both his adopted father and the abused politician's wife so happy. Maybe it was not such a bad thing after all, he thought. And maybe he could have felt relief about their accomplished mission, except for two things.

Number one, upon reading Carlisle's thoughts, he realized that the elder vampire had no intention of ending his efforts to please her. And number two, upon reading Esme's thoughts, Edward discovered that the object of Carlisle's affection was now perfectly aware of who exactly her new friend was.

* * *

A/N: Okay, this story is going to be longer than my originally estimated 3 or 4 chapters, but probably not more than 10. Thanks to those who have reviewed; your feedback is very encouraging. I hope you will stick with me for the ride and please leave a review!


	4. The Invitation

Chapter 4- The Invitation

The sight of his smile sent her pulse racing as he approached. Esme was not surprised to see him there among the bushes as he approached her on the stone bench. Her heart gave a little twitter as she looked up into his handsome face.

"Thank you for the sandwich," Esme told the good doctor with a smile, setting the small remaining corner piece back into the white box. "It was delicious."

He smiled in return. "I'm happy that you enjoyed it."

"Dr. Cullen, would you like to join me?" She gestured for him to sit. "It's a beautiful night."

"Thank you, Esme. I would like that very much."

He sat down beside her, and Esme felt herself draw in a breath, overcome suddenly by the warmth in his golden gaze. She scrambled for words, for rational thought, for her mind to function normally. It was hard for her to concentrate with him this close, his body just a foot from hers. His eyes held hers, and before the blush could become apparent, she turned her face away.

"Are you all right, Esme?"

For the moment, her eyes connected with the light of the half moon overhead. She smiled at his concern, his thoughts always for her. Esme nodded shyly. "Yes, I'm all right, Dr. Cullen."

She felt bold suddenly, as though there were no such thing as marriage, propriety, Clifford Brooks…As though, with the blink of an eye, she could make those troublesome obligations just disappear. Esme turned her gaze back to meet the concern – the endless concern etched in the man's chiseled features and smiled to him. Her hand reached for his, grasping the icy feel of his flesh in her warm palm and covering it with gentle fingers.

"I always feel well, Dr. Cullen…when I'm with you."

He remained in the same position, not moving an inch with her touch, and his expression was unchanged. She was sure that he could hear the pounding of her heart as she leaned forward, her face now inches from his. The longings stirred deep within her, and she waited for him to close the gap between them. It was barely fractions of a second, but it was long – too long to wait, and Esme could not stand to wait any longer. She felt like she had waited for this man all her life. Placing her other hand on the coolness of his cheek, she leaned toward him once again. Her lips met his then, and she felt the air leave her body as he pulled her in toward him, his hand both gentle and strong as it pressed against her back. Her body seemed to melt into his embrace, to mold against his chest, and as their lips bound together in a sweet caress, she just knew that she never wanted to be apart from him again.

A booming roll of thunder pulled them apart finally, and Esme's gaze turned up toward the silvery clouds. Tiny raindrops began to trickle downward, and a wave of disappointment flooded her body; she was loath to end this perfect moment. Another peal of thunder resounded, and he rose, offering his hand to help her up.

Her hand still felt warm despite the cold of his grip, and the annoying droplets continued to trickle.

"Thank you again for the sandwich," she told him, her voice thick with both appreciation for his gift, and resentment at having to depart.

"You're welcome."

She lifted the gift box, took the remaining corner of the pineapple sandwich, and offered it to him. "Try it," she said, holding the morsel up to his mouth, wanting to keep him there as long as she possibly could.

He looked uncertain for a moment, but she urged him with another smile. "Go on, try it. It really is very good," she offered again. In return, he parted his lips, and after receiving the bite-sized piece, he chewed, sharing his approval with a smile.

Another crash of thunder, furious and unforgiving, rang through, but this time a bolt of lightning shot across the sky. She looked to the good doctor sorrowfully; it was as though God himself were commanding her return, and Esme soon found herself drenched by icy droplets. Dr. Cullen's voice was barely audible as he whispered goodbye in her ear, and then he was gone…

Her body was cold and shivering, and she made her way back to the estate when another roar from the sky bellowed out from the heavens…

Startled, Esme sat up in her bed, cringing at the continuous boom from the storm outside. With one hand she pulled the blankets against her chest, and the other wiped the sleep from her eyes.

Dr. Cullen…the kiss in the garden…

_It had only been a dream…_

Her heart pounded at the memory of his touch, and after sorting dream from reality, her heartbeat mellowed. With a sigh, she lay back down in her bed, realizing that however sweet the dream had been, it was over, and the real world outside stood waiting for her. But, there was one tangible thing her memory could hold onto, something completely separate from her dream state…

…the pineapple sandwich.

* * *

"She knows."

Carlisle busily stirred the ingredients in the bowl the next day. By now, he no longer had use for the recipe book, repeating the actions from memory. His clothes were dusted with flour when he turned to face Edward.

The younger vampire had withheld that knowledge from his adopted father, allowing him to enjoy the moment. Edward stayed by his side the night before, secure with the thought that Carlisle would be satisfied with just watching her. He read his thoughts carefully, and in them there were no traces of making contact. However, there was something that neither had counted on. In reading Esme's thoughts, he quickly learned that she had not recognized the writing on the note, but as soon as she opened the box and found the surprise inside, she knew without a doubt who was responsible.

Edward had not counted on that, at least, Carlisle had assured him as much. A woman like her ought to have many friends and admirers, he had told him, confident in the fact that she would not relate the gift to him…and so Edward had gone along with it.

But now, there would be questions, and questions had the tendency to lead to trouble…

Carlisle continued to stir the mixture, focusing his thoughts on that task alone.

"Carlisle," Edward said louder to get his attention. "Esme knows that it was from _you_."

_Stirring, stirring, stirring…_

"Carlisle! This has to stop!" The elder vampire still made no move, but his thoughts were now turning reluctantly to Edward's words. It was especially important to Edward that Carlisle listen to him now because he had heard a very significant piece of information. Esme's husband was to depart for a business trip to Dallas, Texas that evening for an undefined length of time. So, for now, he decided he would withhold that tidbit from his surrogate father. _It was for his own good._

The telephone rang at that moment, and their eyes met, sparking a race to answer. Carlisle was at a disadvantage with his hands covered in flour, so Edward, being the faster of the two, grabbed the receiver in a flash.

"Hello?" Edward answered, hoping that it was someone from the morgue, or another patient requiring his father's services. His eyes never left Carlisle's, and the doctor's thoughts pleaded to know the identity of the caller…hoping…

A dark eyebrow rose on Edward's face, concentrating on the voice on the other end of the line, and what to do next. "Yes, of course. Dr. Cullen will be there."

The absurdly young-looking doctor wiped his hands on his trousers, and a pained look crossed his face. The suspense…it was too much.

Edward hung up the receiver and sighed. "That was Esme. She wants to see you."

* * *

Esme's pulse raced as she hung up the phone. She had tried to sound official, and had hoped that Dr. Cullen would answer, but at the same time was relieved to hear the voice of another man. She was aware that he had an assistant, although she had never met him. In any case, it was better this way. After all, as happy as she would be to see Dr. Cullen again, this house call was not for her.

She turned to her afflicted husband, whose infrequent episodes of gout often left him crying like a little girl. As the rotund politician sat on the chaise lounge with feet elevated, he bellyached about the arthritic pain in his knee.

"It's all right," she told him kindly, taking his hand in hers. Despite all the pain Clifford Brooks had caused her, Esme never liked to see any human suffer. "The doctor will be here soon."

* * *

She paced outside the room, preferring to allow Dr. Cullen privacy as he examined her husband. It was not long before the door opened, and she spied the short blonde locks peeking out from the back of his head.

"And stay away from the spirits," she heard his voice say, not loudly, though, in the case of prying ears. Esme smirked. It was not the first time her husband had been advised not to drink, and she was sure it would not be the last either.

"Absolutely. Anytime she needs me I'll be here."

Esme suppressed the hidden pleasure that statement gave her. Of course while Clifford was away, he would expect the doctor to be on call to deal with any emergency that may arise…especially with the pregnancy.

Dr. Cullen joined Esme outside the door, clutching the medical bag in one hand, and closing the door behind him with the other. She drew in a breath at the sight of him; his smile had a way of lighting a fire in her heart. His golden eyes were filled with warmth, and now after recalling bits from her dream, it was too easy to recall the longings that his lips had stirred within her.

"Your husband is going to be fine, Esme. He should keep the ice on his knee for now, and take some pain reliever as needed."

"Thank you, Dr. Cullen, for coming so quickly."

Another smile curved his lips, and he returned to his original line of thinking. "I advised him already against traveling. Usually when gout flares up it is better to wait it out, but he insists…"

She finished the sentence for him. "That he has to go." Esme knew her husband, and though the peace of mind she would have while he was gone would be exquisite, she would not wish for him to leave if it was detrimental to his condition. Clifford Brooks, though, was a stubborn man, and was convinced that his career hinged on this very business trip.

"How are you feeling, Esme? You look well."

Blood threatened to flood her cheeks. It was the first time he had ever complimented her, even if it seemed to be in a purely professional way.

"I feel well, Dr. Cullen, and thank you for asking," she replied, setting a maternal hand on her ever growing abdomen.

"Are you getting enough sleep?"

She could have sworn that his eyes danced when he asked that.

"Yes. I am," she said, smiling.

Their eyes locked for just a moment and the upstairs maid hummed to herself as she passed by, seemingly appearing out of nowhere and shaking them from their spell.

"I should be going," he announced.

Unable to find a reason for him to stay, she followed him to the front door. "Thank you again for coming."

He turned to face her, granting her another smile. "Any time."

The doctor had taken about two steps outside when Esme called out his name.

"Yes, Esme?"

Her heart began to pound when she said it. "Thank you for the sandwich."

Dr. Cullen seemed taken aback for just a moment but did not say a word, only giving a slight nod and smile.

She held onto the door frame tightly, her fingers turning white with the pressure. "Are _you _still having trouble sleeping?"

His golden gaze turned toward the cement pathway. "Yes," he admitted, and then met her gaze once again.

Her heart was thumping so loud in her chest that she was sure the entire household could hear it. "So am I," she told him with a wink, and her lips broke out into a wicked grin. She did not wait to see his reaction as she hurriedly shut the door.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to those who have reviewed- I love hearing from you- and thanks for reading. And to any who are concerned, I have not forgotten that Esme is _married, _so please bear with me and please review :)


	5. Midnight

A/N: One of my readers, who is also a very talented artist, has drawn a beautiful sketch of Carlisle and Esme pertaining to this chapter. It can be viewed at : http://moumou38dotdeviantartdotcom/art/The-Demise-of-Esme-124333013 along with her other amazing work. (Remember to replace the word "dot" with ".")Please check it out! Also, as I so often tend to do, I am taking liberties with the story (liberties- oh, glorious liberties) so please stay with me!

Chapter 5- _Midnight_

In both hands, he held another small white gift box tied with a long red ribbon into a bow. Even before he could see her, his ears picked up the two heartbeats, one thudding rhythmically, and another more faint, but accelerated. Carlisle watched as Esme emerged hurriedly from her front door. Her gaze darted in every direction, as though expectant, hoping to see him there…at least that was what he had hoped.

Against his adopted son's advice, Carlisle waited in the garden at her estate. He stood behind a pine tree, inhaling its scent and a dozen others, his eyes following her alluring figure as she made her way to the stone bench. His senses were assaulted by the flavor of her, the honey and vanilla bouquet of her hair, the sweet airy floral of her skin. The tempting scent of her alone had lingered in his thoughts since the first time he had treated her. The traces that drifted from her flesh were heady, and more times than not it had incited an unknown desire within him, drowning out the sudden burn in his throat. Suddenly, he was filled with doubt. That _was_ an invitation that she had given, wasn't it? With crystal clarity, he recalled her words:

"_Are you still having trouble sleeping?"_

Then with an unmistakable wink of her eye and a smile that took his breath away, she said, "_So am I._"

The woman was so beautiful- her caramel hair fell into a curl gently past her shoulders, dark brown eyes stared into the distance with a brilliant sparkle, and her ruby lips were set in their ever present smile seeming to say welcome without ever speaking a word.

Perhaps Edward was right, Carlisle thought sadly. Maybe this was a mistake. He was her doctor and a vampire, for goodness sake! What was he doing there in Esme's garden? Besides, what had he ever done to deserve the kindness of such an angel? Carlisle did not kid himself in believing that it was more than kindness.

Even if it were, despite the power of his rekindled human desires, he would not dare act on them. It had not mattered how much he wanted her; the effect of a physical relationship with a human could be disastrous, and Carlisle could not fathom causing Esme any kind of pain. Though, the effect that the moonlight had shining down on her heavenly face was stunning, the way the pale light caressed her delicate features, and he found himself in awe of her…as always.

However, a line had been drawn. It had never been easy for him to treat her injuries, feeling such urgent longings for her, but it had been possible, hiding his attraction behind his profession. Meeting her here, now with his medical bag sitting safely on the counter in its place at home, and he standing behind his tree without any true purpose had instilled a new fear. Now he did not know how to act or what to say. Dear God, he thought. How did I let this happen? Would he hurt her by leaving her there waiting for him or would he engage in a relationship that promised to end in heartache? Carlisle debated that thought for a moment, considering every possible angle: how this would affect Edward, how that monster of a husband may punish Esme, how Esme would suffer, how a certain very deadly group of vampires in Italy would frown on his behavior, how he and Edward would have to relocate…

"Boo."

Startled, Carlisle turned to face the object of his affection, his gift still gripped lightly in his hands. So consumed was he by his thoughts and every possible scenario that the connection between the soft patter of her footsteps and her approach did somehow not click. And if that had not clued him in, the impending nearness of her scent, the beat of her heart growing stronger, louder should have surely done it. For the first time in centuries, he had been caught unawares, and had no idea that that was possible. What would Edward say? The very idea of sneaking up on a vampire was absurd. But then, it seemed that this was one of many firsts for Carlisle when it came to Esme. Before he could ponder that further, he was immediately taken by her sweet smile.

"Hello, Esme," he greeted nervously.

"Are you hiding?" she asked curiously; her body had been drawn to him like a magnet. The moon was full that night, but she may not have seen him at all in the dusky shadows perched behind the tree, dressed in dark clothing as he was except for the familiar shock of his blonde hair. She had to admit to having her doubts that he would even show up, and her heart warned her fully of the danger if he did, nevertheless, like the air she breathed, she welcomed it. And the way he stood there, so unsure, the handsome doctor appeared to be even more tense than she was. To Esme, it was all the more endearing.

"No, I'm…not hiding," he lied, hoping that his expression did not betray it. Carlisle pondered what his explanation would be, but before he could say the words she spoke again.

"Is that for me?" she asked knowingly with a wide grin, eyeing the gift in his hands. She was hoping that it was what she thought it was.

He turned his attention back to the white box in his hands. "Yes." There was something so captivating about this woman that he found himself constantly struggling for words…or rather, the right ones. "This is for you." His pale hands handed her his gift.

_Giving a woman a gift…another first…_

With a delighted squeal, she accepted. The dizzying scent of pineapple played at her nose… Her fingers greedily untied the ribbon, unearthing the tasty treat. "Thank you, Dr. Cullen."

Holding onto her present with one hand, Esme threw her other arm around him excitedly.

But what she had not expected was the feeling of smashing into the brick wall that was his chest. Puzzled, she pulled away. It was odd, but not enough to make her forget about the object in her other hand which at the moment her stomach was now reminding her of.

Carlisle sensed her unease and he could hear the beat of her heart pounding faster. But, how to explain? He could not very well tell her that his body was as hard as marble - all but impenetrable…that he was not human. Instead, he decided not to explain.

"Please call me Carlisle." He smiled when he said it, but the line had been drawn, and he had stepped over it. And now, there was no turning back.

"Carlisle," she repeated, her tongue trying the name out for size. Until now she had not spoken his first name. She liked the way that it sounded; it suited him. There was something very curious about this man. To Esme, he was intriguing. Beyond the pale, cold skin, and the alarming good looks, there was something very unearthly about him. She fancied for a moment how any other woman may have taken off running, but Esme was too fascinated by the good doctor to be fearful. "Did you make this?" Turning on her heel, she gestured for him to follow her to the stone bench and promptly sat, setting the box down and removing the sandwich.

"I did," he replied humbly. It had taken several hours, but to see the pleasure on her face made it surely worth the effort. "With some help."

She gave him another smile. Her own husband would never have been so thoughtful. "Thank you, Carlisle," she said, her voice full of awe.

If he had a heart still beating in his chest, he was sure that it might have enlarged three times by now. Her words, her expression, her gratitude was so genuine that he had to fight the urge to take her into his arms.

"May I ask you something, Esme?"

Her mouth was full, and the sounds that she emitted indicated that she was enjoying her sandwich very much. She swallowed the bite she had in her mouth. "Certainly."

"How did you know the sandwich was from me?"

Esme's lips curved into a smile again. "I don't ask my staff to prepare these for me because I think they would find it repulsive, and that's why I haven't told anyone else about this particular craving. I make them myself, but I have to admit these are delicious…much better than the ones I make."

_Repulsive_…Edward had said as much and Carlisle could only imagine.

"And you were the only person I told that I didn't think would shake your head in disgust." She took another bite. "Mmmmm, mmmmm, oh, MMMMM!" she sounded out her pleasure as she chewed.

Carlisle felt a twinge of guilt.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly, wiping crumbs from her lips. "Would you like some? Have you tried it?"

"No… thank you," he replied hastily.

A look of surprise lit up her face. "You didn't even try any?"

He tried to think quickly. "I am allergic to food." His eyebrows knit together at Esme's befuddled expression, and then kicked himself mentally for being an idiot. "Pineapples," he corrected. "I'm allergic to pineapples."

"Oh. That's too bad. And the bread…it's so fresh."

They sat in silence as Esme continued to devour her sandwich. Carlisle already planned on baking more bread when he arrived home.

Questions floated around in his head like a roomful of bubbles; there was so much he wanted to know about this woman, but first decided it best to begin with the most important.

"May I ask you another question?"

She nodded to him, her mouth full once more.

"Why did you invite me here?"

Esme swallowed. She had wondered if that question would come up, or if she would be prepared to answer it…truthfully. "Why did _you_ leave _me _a gift?" she countered.

"I asked you first."

Her hands rubbed together, dislodging some loose crumbs and then wiped her robe clean. "I don't have anyone to talk to, Dr…er…Carlisle." She watched his expression change from concern to understanding. "My husband only talks, but doesn't listen, and the women here…" she trailed off.

"What?" he pressed.

"Did you ever feel like you just don't fit in?" she asked, already knowing the answer to that question.

He smiled. "Yes." _More than you know_…

"Don't misunderstand. On the surface, they're pleasant enough, but when no one is watching, they're really just a bunch of gossipy old biddies. All they care about is what everyone is doing wrong, always excited about the latest scandal. I am not interested in those things." She paused for a moment, meeting the question in his eyes. "It's as though I should be content to be happy with their mindless chatter, but I think that in truth, they find _me _quite boring."

In his mind he had imagined that wherever she went that she was the center of attention, that as she walked, all eyes followed her, as she spoke, the others would hang on her every word, when in fact, it was not that way at all.

It was difficult for him to believe it. She was lonely- it was a feeling he knew all too well; after existing for centuries without companionship, he was driven to create a companion, and though he had felt fulfilled in his paternal relationship with Edward, another void had now presented itself in his life like a big, ugly wart.

"What is it that interests you, Esme?" he asked. There were so many facets to her, so many layers beneath the surface. She was like a buried gem, pure and undiscovered, and Carlisle yearned to uncover it, ready to explore the treasures of her mind, her thoughts.

She closed her eyes for a moment, a little embarrassed. From a very young age, she had always been the one most likely to state her opinion, and for most of her life she had been reprimanded for it. Raised to believe that females were born and raised to become wives and mothers, Esme could go along with those old-fashioned ideals, but also felt that she had had to repress her other interests and ideas.

"Decorating - decorating is my passion! Also, architecture- I love old buildings- like…did you know that the St. Louis Cathedral here in the French Quarter was built in 1727 and dedicated to King Louis IX of France?" She did not wait for him to respond before continuing. "It has the most exquisite stained glass windows and paintings," she said, now breathless. "Of course, Rococo style is not my favorite, but I do appreciate its European influence. Oh, and speaking of European influence, I absolutely adore the Victorian style and the furnishings inside the Gallier House…"

Carlisle listened for hours as she spoke of her love for art, music, and history, soaking in every detail of her interests, fascinated by her every word. Slowly, they strolled the narrow cobblestone pathway leading to another garden that overlooked a magnificent view of New Orleans. And he was sure that amongst the array of lovely blossoms and beneath the majestic tableau of stars, that Esme was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

The two fell silent as a yawn emerged suddenly from Esme's mouth and her fingers rose to rub the burning in her eyes.

"You should go to sleep," Carlisle told her, always the doctor, but it was more than that. He wanted her to be healthy and taken care of; he _needed_ her to be.

Esme did not want the night to end. "No, I'm fine. I'm not sleepy at all," she argued when another yawn escaped her.

"Thank you for inviting me here tonight, Esme. I really enjoyed it," he told her sincerely, also loathe for their time to be over.

"Thank you for listening to me. I feel like I did all the talking." She felt bad about that now, but also had the idea that he had not minded her rambling one bit.

"It was my pleasure."

Her heart gave a familiar flutter.

She suppressed the urge to tell him not to leave, but she could not very well ask him to stay, and her eyelids were feeling very heavy. He bade her good night and turned to leave, although a measure of hesitance was marked in his movements.

"Wait!" she called out.

Carlisle turned to face her.

"You never answered my question," she pressed. "Why did you leave me a gift?" Again, to her dismay another yawn slipped from her lips.

Her heartbeat had begun to sound rapidly again as his gaze turned downward, unsure about how to answer her query. "It's very late, Esme."

"Please?"

"You need to sleep now," he insisted.

"Then, next time…will you tell me then?"

_Next time_…The very thought of it was precarious, but the prospect of it did so appeal to him.

"Next time," he agreed, turning away to leave. True, it was a noncommittal response, but it allowed him time to formulate his reply.

Her reply came in a whisper that danced around his ear with a feather light touch. "Tonight?"

Her heart pounded at having voiced this second invitation. It was so bold, so wanton, so recklessly necessary that it had been impossible to halt the request from leaving her lips. Her very soul commanded it.

Carlisle faced Esme once more, his eyes meeting the sparkle in her dark brown eyes. Her cheeks had filled with a telltale blush that ignited not that terrible burning in his throat, but another fire, an unnamed and foreign craving. He knew that it was wrong to keep seeing her like this, but felt like being apart from her now would be its own brand of torture. Though he lacked experience in relationships with women, he could see the expectant look on her face, the hope written in her expression…and he found this woman very hard to resist. He knew that Edward would strongly disapprove, but also knew that the seconds would crawl by endlessly until he saw her again.

He nodded, melting inside at the irresistible smile that encompassed her face. "Tonight."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading, and also thanks to my reviewers for your wonderful support! And as always, please let me know what you think. :)


	6. No Moon

Chapter 6 – No Moon

"This is a really bad idea, Carlisle," Edward told him, watching as the elder vampire cut expertly into a pineapple. "You are _supposed_ to be the doctor and she is _supposed_ to be the patient!"

Carlisle shook his head, and with one smooth motion of his knife, cut a beautifully round slice of the yellow fruit. Lately there had been many disagreements between the two. _Nothing has changed._

Edward refrained from raising his voice. "Everything has changed," he tried to say calmly, but found his tone rising with each word. "You are meeting her in the garden again, at midnight…with another sandwich!" he said, exasperated, gesturing toward the pineapple for emphasis.

_I can't help it. I have to see her again. _Carlisle wished that he had not been so quick to think it…that he could take it back, but it had not mattered. His actions over the past few weeks had already demonstrated his feelings. It had become harder and harder to try to justify these feelings to his adopted son.

"She is human!"

_I know that! _Carlisle did not face him and instead grasped the fruit and set it carefully between two fresh slices of bread. _Perhaps_ _one day you will find a woman, Edward, and then you will understand these irrational urges…_

He doubted that and had to disagree. "If I do, she _won't_ be human!" Edward argued.

"Maybe she will," Carlisle said aloud, lifting his head and meeting the younger vampire's gaze, "or maybe she won't."

Shaking his head vehemently, Edward replied, "No! I would _never_ do anything as reckless or foolhardy or _irresponsible_ as falling in love with a human!" He continued to mutter on about the fact that Esme was not only mortal, but married and pregnant as well.

Carlisle tuned him out, picturing once again the smile on Esme's lips, anticipating her delight at the treat as he placed it into the cardboard box.

"Did you hear me, Carlisle? I would _never_ let that happen! Never!" Edward repeated, but to his dismay, Carlisle's thoughts and mind were elsewhere. It was impossible to speak to him when he was off in la la land. Carlisle continued to wrap the sandwich into the box, tied a ribbon around it, and then placed the remainder of the bread and pineapple slices into separate bags.

"I have to go, son. I don't want to be late." Wearing a silly grin, Carlisle hummed, scooping the bags and Esme's gift into his arms and ghosted toward the door.

"Wait. What are you doing with the leftover bread and fruit? Are you giving that to Esme, as well?"

_I'm going to make a quick stop downtown. _

"Ah." Feeding the pregnant and the derelict - it was so Carlisle.

* * *

She searched for him, her heart pounding with anticipation. It was dark this night, and with the moon nowhere to be found in the vast expanse of sky, the only light apparent was from the stars that shone dimly in the heavy blackness. Esme calculated her steps carefully as she walked, hoping to avoid tripping over her own feet. He was not behind the pine tree where she had spotted him the night before, and the lack of light did not afford her much opportunity to find him. Still hopeful, Esme returned to the stone bench.

Except for the distant chirping of crickets, it was deathly quiet in the garden. She inhaled the fresh rosy scent from the nearby bush and closed her eyes, feeling the gentle tug of wind as it brushed her hair against her cheek.

"Hello."

Startled, Esme's eyes popped open, and in reflex her hand flew to her heart. "Carlisle! Oh, I didn't hear you."

Though this patient-doctor relationship that they had was hardly proper, Carlisle really liked the musical quality to her voice as she said his name.

As she gestured for him to take the seat beside her, she could only make out his dim figure. His pale skin and the white of the gift box were visible only as shadows. Relief washed over her to see him there; she had been fretting all day whether he would actually meet her or not.

"You look well," he complimented.

Esme giggled. "How can you even see me?" She brought her hand within view. "I can barely see my hand in front of my face."

_Oops…another slip up_. Carlisle realized that he was going to have to be more careful.

"I brought you something," he told her, hoping to change the subject.

She could only hear the smooth tenor of his voice, and its silky tone drew goose bumps from her body. Clapping her hands together, she faced him. "Another sandwich?" she asked excitedly, feeling very spoiled.

"Yes," he replied, handing it to her, pleased by her reaction. Esme was so sweet, so thankful that if she had so desired it, Carlisle would have happily given her the world.

"Thank you," she told him, already untying the ribbon and opening up the box. She wasted no time in removing the sandwich and taking a big healthy bite. "Mmmmm. Mmmmm…so good."

With a smile, he watched as she enjoyed the fruit of his labor, and a slight breeze swept some stray locks against her cheek, nearly tangling itself into her food.

The tempting scent of honey and vanilla sent him reeling as always, but since he had not hunted in a few weeks, an uncomfortable burning that he had commonly suppressed was now prickling stronger at his throat as she shoved the strands away.

The medium length of her caramel colored hair was something that Carlisle had always found especially attractive about her. In an age where most women flaunted the more common bob, Esme's locks hung in long tresses that brushed past her shoulders. To Carlisle, it was all the more endearing the way she had refused to follow in the latest fashion; it was a testament to her independent way of thinking.

"So?" she asked after polishing off the first half of the sandwich, and then setting the remainder back into the box for later. Not being able to read his expression was a bit disconcerting, but she also found a comfort there…in the darkness.

"So?" he repeated.

Esme was embarrassed to have to repeat it, but found the nerve there in the dusky setting. "You were supposed to tell me why you left a gift for me," she reminded, finding that suddenly it was not so difficult to say the words when she could not make out his reaction.

"Right." He could see her just fine, his keen eyesight dependable and unfailing even in the blackness. It was easy for him to make out the question in her large expressive eyes.

"I thought," he began, watching her expression carefully, still debating if he wanted to take the conversation in this direction.

"Go on," she urged.

"I thought that I could do one single thing to make you happy."

She shook her head. "What makes you think that I'm not happy?" Esme countered.

He was silent, but let his gaze fall heavily on her wrist. She could barely see the outline of him; his head was bent downward, and the faded white horizontal line on the wrist of her right hand was instantly brushed by his cool feather-light touch.

_One single thing to make you happy._ The words, they seemed innocent enough, but now that the meaning was clear, they brought a flood of tears to her eyes, and she pulled her healed wrist away from him. "That's very personal," she told him, trying desperately to suppress the quivering of her lips.

"Esme…you asked," he told her gently, honestly, wishing he could reach out and wipe away the tears now falling onto her cheeks.

Not able to hold it in any longer, the sobs broke freely, and she raised her hands to cover her face as she wept. Apparently, he had known the truth all along about her husband's wrongdoings, and now Esme felt foolish for thinking that Carlisle had believed her lies…and there had been so many.

"I'm sorry," Carlisle told her, wishing that he had never said it. The last thing he wanted to do was make Esme cry; she had suffered enough.

"I think you should leave, Dr. Cullen," she said in between sobs, humiliated and facing away from him now. Feeling grateful for the darkness, she was happy that he could not see her crying, even if he could hear her.

"Please," he begged, but could not summon any words to follow that might help. With a sigh, he stood, waiting for a moment, hoping there was some way to remedy this, but another thought occurred to him then. Edward was right…about everything. She was human and his patient. And vampires were _not_ supposed to form personal relationships with mortals. Now, Carlisle wondered bitterly if she would ever allow him to treat her again… "I really am very sorry for upsetting you, Esme. Good night." Careful to monitor his speed, he stepped slowly away.

She sniffled, uncovering her face, watching as the figure of his body retreated from her. A feeling of panic overcame her then. "Wait! No!" she called out, sniffling again and rising from the bench.

Her voice stopped him right in his tracks. As much as he knew he should, Carlisle could not bring himself to walk away from her.

Esme covered the distance between them, now pleading. "Please don't go. I really don't want you to leave, Carlisle." To Esme, sending the man away was like cutting off a vital part of herself. "I'm sorry about all that. It's not your fault. Every day has been like a rollercoaster for me, and my emotions can't decide whether to be happy or sad," she told him now with a girlish giggle. "Today, I've already cried three times…for no apparent reason." What she neglected to mention was how afterward she would dive into a fit of giddy laughter…and that the thought of meeting him again was what had prompted it.

"That's normal," he confirmed softly, turning to face her then; he was relieved to hear the music of her laughing, glad to see the light in her eyes shining again, but most of all grateful that she was not angry with him.

"Thank you," she told him. "Thank you for _all_ the sandwiches."

"My pleasure."

"And there's something else, Carlisle," she told him softly. "I'm not unhappy." She set her hand upon her slightly swollen abdomen in adoration of the tiny being growing inside her.

Before he even said the words aloud, he could already hear in his mind the disapproval in Edward's response. "I care about you very much, Esme, and I worry that your husband will hurt you again…and the baby."

She shook her head, half jumping for joy that Carlisle had admitted that he cared for her, half crying inside for his painful assumptions. And what hurt worse was that he was right; she knew better than anyone that it was only a matter of time until Clifford would strike her…Tears began to well in her eyes again.

"I want," he began, his voice becoming husky, "no _need _you to know, Esme, that if it happens again, that you have options." His eyes met the fear in hers. "You can go to the police, or I-"

"Stop." It was just a whisper, but she could not bear for him to continue.

"You don't _have_ to stay here with him, Esme," Carlisle told her urgently, always having wanted to tell her as much, but having never found the courage. "I could protect…"

She cut him off. "Stop!" she said, and her hands rose to her ears to cover them. But after a moment, her hands fell back to the swell of her stomach. This time, she sniffed back the tears and wiped her eyes, still facing him. The darkness was giving her the courage to speak her mind. "I care very much for you, too, Carlisle," she told him, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. "Don't you think that I know how happy we could be together? Or that it hurts to know that there is actually someone out there who cares not only about me, but about what I think?" Stepping away from him, she continued, "In another life, you and I …" she stopped, forbidding herself to voice that sentiment. "But as much as it pains me to say this, my life is here, no matter what happens- for better or for worse. I am a wife and I'll be a mother soon…and _this_ is my life."

Although Carlisle already knew, the truth of her words had cut him like a knife. He was only too aware that Esme would not stray from her commitments, but somehow hearing her say that she cared for him had made it harder, not easier.

"Of course, Esme. And I want you to know that if you ever need me, I'll be here…for you and the baby. I am still your doctor."

She nodded. That fact did give her a great measure of comfort and reassurance. This connection, this relationship that she had with him was so delicate, so fragile that she was loath to stain it with the harsh reality of what could never be…

"Yes. You are still my doctor," she affirmed. "And now you are also a very dear friend, and I could not stand to lose you, Carlisle."

He placed his hands on her shoulders very gently. It was true that they shared forbidden feelings for each other, but he brought himself to relish the fact that she still wanted him in her life… and that meant the world to him. "You will not lose me."

Esme's lips fell into a mock frown. "Promise? That we can still be friends?"

"I promise." He released his grip from her, letting his hands fall to his sides.

"And that we won't speak of this again?" she asked breathlessly.

This was a harder promise for Carlisle to make. He wanted, above all, for her to be safe from that ogre of a husband. "Very well," he agreed reluctantly.

Oh, she was feeling so bold now. Thank you, moon, wherever you are tonight, she thought, shuddering to think of how differently this conversation may have gone without the absence of the brilliant light from the sky. "And…that you'll come visit me every night…"

He was smiling now. She wanted him to return…on a regular basis. How could he resist? "Absolutely." Edward would be furious with him, but Carlisle brushed that very unpleasant thought aside as the pair continued to stroll along the garden.

_Three hours later…_

"I grew up in Atlanta, but after I met Clifford, we married and moved here to New Orleans about twelve years ago," she told him. The yawns were overtaking her again, and Esme was becoming very annoyed by it.

"Do you miss Atlanta?"

She shrugged. "I miss my family- my mother and brothers and sisters, but not the town itself."

"If you could live anywhere…"

She cut him off, "I would love to live near the ocean. Clifford's sister lives in Harmony, Mississippi. From her balcony, there's a breathtaking view of the sea. We go there about once a year to visit and stay for a week." Esme had looked forward to those visits, to the peaceful walks along the beach nearby, breathing in the salty smell of the water. "From Evelyn's house, it's less than a half mile walk to Peace Cliffs, and from there the waves stretch out as far as the eyes can see."

Carlisle nodded, enamored by the dreamy look in her eyes. "I've heard of it."

"You have?"

He kicked himself again, not wanting to reveal too much about his life. He could not very well tell her that he had worked at Harmony County Hospital for a number of years. That knowledge would lead to questions, and sadly, questions tended to lead to more lies. "I've passed through there."

Yawning again, she shook her head. "I've done it again! I still don't know anything about you, Carlisle," she said, rubbing her eyes.

That was how he liked it. "It looks like it's time for bed for you, Esme."

Her lips parted to disagree, but her mouth fell open, gaping again as the force of her tiredness burst out in a long exhalation. She rubbed her watery eyes and nodded reluctantly. "All right. And look at you," she pointed out, "again, you're not even tired! You haven't yawned once."

His eyes widened at this, and silently reprimanding himself, Carlisle immediately let his mouth fall open and covered it with his hand, doing his best impression of a yawn.

"Tonight, you tell me about you, okay?"

Carlisle did not know what he would tell her, only that he had an infinitesimal reserve of conjured stories in which to choose from. The very idea of lying to Esme brought upon himself a deep compunction. "Very well," he agreed. "Tonight."

As soon as Esme was out of sight, Carlisle took his leave at an unearthly speed, leaping over the wrought iron gate with ease, just as he had done so for the last number of visits, but as he approached his vehicle, a familiar scent touched his nose. Carlisle breathed a sigh, dread coursing through him as he approached his vehicle parked another two blocks away. A surge of gray in the sky swept through the cloudy blackness, giving the first glimpse of dawn and there, standing with arms folded across his chest like an angry statue before his car was Edward.

* * *

A/N: Please stay with me as I work my way through the final chapters...and please review! :)


	7. The Beginning of the End

Chapter 7- The Beginning of the End

The black sky was giving way to the first hint of dawn, slowly illuminating the sky with grayish light. As always, Carlisle maintained his calm disposition, now guarding his thoughts as he opened the car door. "Good morning, Edward."

Edward shut his eyes tight, as though trying to keep hold of his own temper. "This has to stop."

"What is this?" he asked, finding their suitcases and belongings crammed into the backseat of the car.

"We have to leave, Carlisle. This thing with Esme has gotten out of control." Edward entered the car, glaring at his adopted father beside him.

Carlisle's lips were set in a line. There were times when he had to admit that Edward's mind reading was something he could live without. _You've been spying?_

The younger vampire nodded. "One of us needs to be the responsible one! We have to leave New Orleans. Now."

Before he could dispute, it occurred to Carlisle then that he may have been neglecting his adopted son and set his gaze on the now blackened shade of Edward's irises. After so many years, it had been easy for Carlisle to put off feeding for longer periods of time, but for Edward the effect could be disastrous. He was going to have to be more observant…

"Carlisle, this is not about me!" Edward told him. Of course, he was thirsty but that was beside the point. Somehow he needed to find a way to get through to him. "You told Esme that you would see her every day. You told her that you cared for her; you almost made a very bad mistake!"

_Nothing happened, Edward._

"I heard what you were thinking, Carlisle. If Esme would have agreed, she would be here in this car with us right now."

Carlisle turned to face his protégée. "Everything is under control and I apologize, Edward, for being neglectful of your needs." He set a hand on the younger man's shoulder and his golden eyes met Edward's regretfully. "It won't happen again. Please remember that _you_ are my family, and I would never do anything to put us in jeopardy. Understand?"

It had not helped Edward's cause that he could always read the pure sincerity in the man's thoughts. At last, he was finally beginning to sound like Carlisle again, and having been able to hear the elation in his mentor's mind whenever he thought about Esme, he could not help feeling sorry that things couldn't be different for the lovesick couple. The man had drifted through centuries, enduring year after year of tedium, and now a spark of love had reawakened his zest for life. He had given so much of himself in healing the sick and taking Edward under his wing. Carlisle had never asked for anything in return. Now, whether it was right or wrong, he was happy. After thinking it through, it was difficult for Edward to begrudge that.

Edward nodded, placing his trust once again into his creator. "I understand."

Carlisle smiled to the young man. Though he was twenty, Edward was still so young, so prone to his human emotions and requiring love and guidance. The boy had had loving parents once, and Carlisle felt himself a poor substitute for what Edward really needed, but… he was trying. After starting the car's engine, he gave a quick tousle to the younger vampire's bronze colored hair. "Let's hunt."

* * *

"How old are you?" she asked the next night as they gazed out at the lights of the city. She was giddy to finally be learning things about him.

Carlisle wore a look of uncertainty. He could not very well tell her that he was born in the seventeenth century. "I'm-"

Esme raised her hands. "No! Wait! Let me guess."

He nodded, happy to have the pressure off.

Tapping her finger to her chin, Esme let her eyes roam the perfection of the doctor's handsome features. Not a trace of a wrinkle. "Smile," she ordered, searching for laugh lines when he complied, at the same time trying to not let herself be swept away by the longing she felt when he looked at her that way…She then examined the outward corners of his eyes for crow's feet…and there were none. Esme had always guessed the good doctor to be young, under thirty for sure, but his mannerisms, his knowledge, and his expertise belied that assumption. Sneakily, she let her gaze sweep over his face longer than she should have, just for the opportunity to truly appreciate the straightness of his nose, the breathtaking golden color of his eyes, the full, even set of his lips. "I'm going to guess that…well, twenty-two is too young, obviously because you're a doctor and have far too much experience."

His smile then became a smirk. _Twenty- two_…

"And you haven't given me a clue as to what year you were born…I'm just going to guess that you are the same age as me – twenty-six. Am I right?"

Carlisle's eyes widened in pretense, allowing his lips to spread into a grin.

"I knew it!" she confirmed with a giggle, clapping her hands together.

A stab of guilt pierced through him. He had had many of those moments since he met Esme, but it simply could not be helped. She had guessed, after all, and he was only going along with her assumptions. Yes, this was much better…The truth would surely scare her. Even worse, if word ever got back to Volterra, things could turn deadly. "You're good at this."

"Okay, so let's see," she said, counting on her fingers. "You didn't have any brothers or sisters, you never knew your mother; your father was a preacher who died many years ago…"

"That's right," he affirmed. For hundreds of years, Carlisle had hidden himself and his past from the world, ashamed of what he was, using lies to make it through the days. Edward was the only one who knew the truth. But this was different; these fabrications were just lies to everyone else, but when Carlisle spoke to Esme, he _wanted_ for her to know him- even if she could not know it all, and even if much of what he told her were half-truths. "Esme..." He paused for a moment, still deliberating. "I'm not like other men."

Esme's dark eyes widened, and throwing her head back, she let out a loud giggle. "That's for sure!" She elbowed him playfully, considering the truth of his words. He certainly was not like any man that _she_ had ever known. In fact, she was sure there was no comparison. "So," she said, continuing, "The field of medicine called to you, so you went to college, and began working as a doctor."

"Right," he confirmed with some relief, hoping that there would be no more questions.

"And you have traveled all over the world." A far off look appeared in Esme's expressive eyes.

"What is it?"

"It's just that I've never been outside the Gulf States."

A blonde eyebrow arched on his face. "You're kidding."

"No! I've always wanted to travel, but…" Esme stopped right there. She had already admitted to being confined to her relationship and now saw no further point in dwelling on the matter.

"If you could travel anywhere, Esme, where would you go?"

"Italy." Without hesitation, the word slipped from her lips, and the dreamy look glazed over her eyes once again.

At this, Carlisle sighed. How he would love to take her to Italy…to show her the magnificent buildings, the awe-inspiring museums, the soaring cathedrals. He considered the irony; she would adore Volterra…In another life…

Those three words had returned to his thoughts more often than he liked. Esme had said them; she had felt them…

They were meant to be together…in another life.

* * *

Autumn quickly faded, giving way to the chill of winter. The two continued to meet, with few exceptions. Time passed, and day by day, and week by week, their hearts grew closer.

Carlisle was as good as his word. He never brought up Esme's other "options", and although she had been quick to dismiss it initially, with the passage of time and the growth of her abdomen, her thoughts often turned to his offer.

The staff was none the wiser about Esme's nocturnal visits, and Clifford Brooks had since come and gone three times. To her relief, Clifford had kept his hands off Esme, simply avoiding her, often locking himself in the study, as he tended to do, with his hefty supply of scotch. He only stayed in New Orleans for a few weeks to a month, and then Esme was left with the bliss that followed each departure.

Clifford had already left for Dallas that morning, and Esme found herself more fatigued than usual. She felt out of sorts. Her brows were knit into a furrow, and her hands splayed across her distended belly. In a fit of panic, she instructed the downstairs maid Betty to summon Dr. Cullen.

Carlisle arrived, medical bag in hand, not allowing his worry to show through. Already he could hear the thumping sound of two heartbeats before the maid showed him in to the guest room. Betty gestured for him to enter, asking if there was anything he needed, and with the doctor's polite refusal, she closed the door behind him.

"Are you all right, Esme?" he breathed, noting the dark circles under her eyes and the worn appearance on her typically glowing face as she sat on the chaise lounge. Since Brooks had been home, their visits had been limited to a few nights a week, and not at all when it rained. He had not seen her in five long days, and now the rapturous relief he felt at her closeness was overwhelming.

She smiled then, breathing in the unforgettable scent of him. After his brief absence, her heart did flips as he gazed upon her now, and to her delight could both see and feel a wave of flesh making itself present as the baby rolled around inside her abdomen. "I am now." Heaving a sigh of relief, Esme met the always appealing gold of Carlisle's eyes gratefully. She had not felt any movement from the baby all morning and afternoon. And, she had also noticed how the baby so frequently tumbled at the comforting sound of the good doctor's voice.

His hand dug the fetoscope from the black medical bag. "You are, what thirty-four weeks along now, Esme?"

"Thirty-four weeks," she agreed, laying down expectantly as he listened to the baby's heartbeat.

He only did it for show, for her reassurance, and proceeded to check her ears, eyes, nose and throat while inquiring about her health. She wondered if he could hear the rapid thumping of her own heartbeat as his cool touch made contact with her skin, how her flesh seemed to warm against his fingers…

In fact, he could hear it, and was pleased by how his presence affected her. He liked that he affected her as much as she did him. Unnecessary as it was, he made a show of taking her hand in his and counting the beats of her pulse.

"Are you getting enough sleep?" he asked mock accusingly. Because of Edward's supernatural gift, Carlisle knew the thoughts and intentions of Esme's husband when he was home, and he also knew that Clifford had not brought any harm to her.

She yawned. "I slept for ten hours today, but I'm still so tired."

"That's normal." He reassured her with a smile. "Toward these last weeks of your pregnancy, you're likely to have less energy. So, be sure to eat enough and nap as you need to."

Esme could not help but smile. "Yes, _Dr._ Cullen," she replied teasingly. Now, addressing him this way felt strange to her.

"The baby is fine, Esme, and there's nothing to worry about." By now, Carlisle wondered if there was not an ulterior motive to this house call. "Did Mr. Brooks depart safely?"

She could feel the blood burning underneath her cheeks. "Yes, he did… And there's talk of rain tonight."

_Ah._ There it was…_She had missed him_. Together they discovered that there was no pleasure in getting pelted by droplets in the garden. Their next meeting would have to wait…

He listened carefully for any breathing outside the door. The last thing they needed was for the maid to be eavesdropping.

"Why didn't you just call me?" Carlisle asked.

She blushed again. "I was worried about the baby…and…and, I didn't know if you were at the hospital…" she stammered, her little one kicking and pummeling inside her like she was a punching bag.

With a smile, he nodded his understanding. She did not want to arouse suspicion of the staff by phoning him herself. If Brooks was to reference this visit, she wanted the maid to be fully aware of it. Sadly, their time was over quickly as he had to hurry his visit. He was expected for a house call at another residence and sorely dreaded saying goodbye to her.

Two nights later they met in their usual location, parting before dawn once again. Though this time, Esme, who had taken a late nap as Carlisle suggested, hesitated before returning to her front door. And now with the baby doing somersaults inside her stomach, she doubted that sleep would come easily for her. Gray light was beginning to peek through the sky, and with sudden curiosity, Esme hurried back to the hilltop garden to spy him as he exited the property. But what she did not expect was to see his tall figure leap fifteen feet into the air, up and over the wrought iron fence with ease, and then as quick as a flash disappeared into the scenery.

* * *

The following night, Edward placed his book back into their ever expanding library, now pondering the numerous titles of volumes he still had not read. While Carlisle was enjoying his nocturnal visits with Esme most nights, Edward had had time to indulge in this favorite pastime, but as he debated between two novels, his ears picked up the far away chugging of Carlisle's vehicle as it puttered down the isolated road. The thoughts in his mentor's head were erratic, and it was difficult for Edward to focus on any single one as Carlisle's concerns and ideas mingled in a confused, disturbing way.

He heard the door open and shut, and called out to Carlisle whose thoughts were now both enraged and torn. At an ungodly speed, he met the elder vampire face to face, confused. Before he could ask why he was back so soon, he could see the frantic expression on his adopted father's face.

_Something must have happened to her._

"Why?" Edward asked.

_She wasn't there_.

Edward tried to reason with him. "Maybe she was too tired."

_No, she would have left a note…somehow. _

"She was probably just in bed asleep, Carlisle."

Carlisle shook his head. He had done something that he had never done before, resorting to climbing trees and spying in windows, and when that had not yielded any results, he had forced the door open and listened for her. She had not been in her room, nor was she anywhere else to be found. A number of heartbeats could be heard by his keen ears, except for the two most important. After roaming the grounds in search of her and checking the hospital, he had reached the most frightening conclusion.

Esme was gone.

* * *

A/N: As always, stay with me...and please review!


	8. Missing

A/N: Thanks so much to my readers and especially to my reviewers! It was so wonderful hearing from you and I really appreciate the feedback. It's when you don't hear anything, you start to wonder... Anyhow, here's chapter 8- wow, that's two updates in one week :) And we are picking up the pace...

Chapter 8- Missing

It was going to take a lot of courage.

"_I care about you very much, Esme, and I worry that your husband will hurt you again…and the baby_."

Over the past months, it had become increasingly difficult for Esme to ignore the reality of those words. It was true that he had not harmed her for a number of months, but after ten years of his abuse, she was not convinced that he was not prone to doing it once again. In fact, she had been plagued by nightmares from which she would awaken trembling and in tears.

It seemed as though Carlisle's voice had been whispering to her constantly.

"_You don't have to stay here with him, Esme. I could protect_…"

She had not wanted to hear it at the time - had refused the option, but as the small, innocent being inside her kicked and tumbled, Esme found herself becoming fiercely protective of the precious little life growing within her womb.

There was another reality she had to face. After witnessing the supernatural leap that Carlisle had taken over her fence, she had begun questioning everything. The doctor that she had come to trust for several months was not what she thought him to be. During one of their visits he had already admitted to not being like other men, and although she had agreed wholeheartedly with that assertion, she could not possibly have known what he meant by it. Their visits had been filled with laughter and conversation, but Esme had always sensed that there was much he was holding back.

Any other person would have been frightened by what she had seen, but it was the man's gentle nature that quelled Esme's fear. Her heart had argued volumes in his defense. Not only that, but there had proven to be a vast number of differences between Carlisle and her husband. The doctor's kindness seemed to know no bounds, and from what he had shared with her about his experiences in the medical field, his selflessness had extended from continent to continent. In conclusion, although the doctor was the one that was clearly different, otherworldly, even, she could not bring herself to fear him.

There were only five weeks left in her pregnancy, and she had much to accomplish in a short period of time. And now, as she walked up the familiar path with a suitcase weighing down heavily in the grip of her right hand, she set out to do what she had planned, hoping for the strength to see it through.

Her legs were stiff from the long and tiresome car ride, and her aching body longed for a bath. The night air was cool, even for spring, as it nipped at her cheeks. Her knuckles knocked loudly on the door, and she took a deep breath as she waited for an answer. A feeling of dread slowly creeped through her body. This was not a conversation that she was looking forward to. The door opened then, and the older woman on the other side of the door smiled in surprised delight with arms outstretched. The woman's shoulder length caramel hair was tinted with gray, and the wrinkles on her face had nearly doubled in the two years since Esme had last seen her.

Tears suddenly filled Esme's eyes. "Hello, Mama."

* * *

"Esme's in Atlanta," Edward informed Carlisle that evening as he speeded through the door.

Carlisle had felt tense and irritable as he tended to his patients that day, his thoughts too preoccupied with Esme's absence, but had not allowed anyone to see the turmoil beneath his kind facade. Their relationship - platonic though it was - was not something that would have been easily accepted by the staff, the city, and most of all her husband, and as much as Carlisle wanted to, he could not very well inquire of her absence.

Edward, on the other hand, staying clear of the sun's rays, had paid the Brooks' estate a visit, and utilizing his gift, proceeded to read the minds of every member of the staff.

"She will be back in one week."

The news of her whereabouts brought both relief and dismay to the elder vampire. At least now he knew that she would be safe, but also could not help the distress that washed over him. Long distance travel was frowned upon so late in her pregnancy, and who would take care of her and the baby if something went awry? There was another more disturbing thought that pricked at him like a thorn.

_Why had she not contacted him? _

Esme hung up the telephone again with a sigh. She had been trying to reach Carlisle for days, and the constant ringing of his phone left her restless and anxious. Although she had been tempted to mail a letter or send a telegram, she did not want any correspondence tracing back to the residence of the doctor. She reasoned to herself that a telephone call could be simply explained with concern for the pregnancy. However, it was more than that; it was the burning desire to hear his voice. Six days had already passed, and she now had no intention of returning to New Orleans, but without speaking to Carlisle, she was not sure of what her next step should be…

The ringing of the phone startled her from her thoughts, and when she answered, hearing the gruff voice she wished never to hear again, her heart dropped.

* * *

Clifford Brooks had become very suspicious. He had been contacted in Dallas by his financial institution that a very sizable sum had been withdrawn by his wife. It was all beginning to add up - the secrecy, the sudden trip to Atlanta, and now the money… In the ten years they had been married, Clifford had never known the woman to have enough spirit to leave him (despite her feeble attempt at suicide), and the timing was unfortunate- at this point in his career he could not afford the scandal. It had become clear to him that his fragile wife was clearly hormonal, and since he could not be there in person to dispel these wicked temptations to leave him, she simply could not be left alone. It was for her own good, after all. After sending a driver to Atlanta to fetch her, Clifford had already decided that Esme would _not_ return to New Orleans – not just yet.

* * *

_She should be back by now. _Carlisle's thoughts were filled with frustration as he leaned against the wall, staring absently out the window at the numerous pine trees bordering their secluded property.

"Maybe she decided to stay in Atlanta for a little while longer," Edward offered, seated on the sofa with book in hand.

_She hasn't called or written. I think something is wrong._

Five more days had passed, and the concern had been growing with every hour of her absence. Despite his reassurances that Esme was fine, Edward had begun to wonder as well.

"Have you gone anywhere while I've been out?" Carlisle asked aloud, crossing the room in a fraction of a second to reach his medical bag on the counter. He harbored the hope that she may have been trying to contact him.

"Just the usual errands – the bank, went to the bookstore…"

_Esme might have called while you were away. _He had already inquired with the operator, and while she could not confirm the caller's identity, there had been calls placed to his number.

It was a reprimand, Edward knew, an unreasonable one, and his mentor seemed prone lately to extreme bouts of irrationality, even if they were in his thoughts. He had not wanted to tell him, but had been making daily trips to the Brooks estate to see what he could find out about her, each time ending up with nothing.

Carlisle was headed to a house call, and Edward stopped him before he set foot out the door. "Tonight, I will go to Esme's house."

A hint of a smile curved Carlisle's lips then. He had not been himself since Esme's disappearance and now regretted his behavior toward the younger vampire. "Thank you, Edward. I'm coming, too."

* * *

While at any other time Esme would have loved the serenity of her sister-in-law Evelyn's home, she hated feeling like she was being kept under lock and key there in Harmony, Mississippi. It had been Clifford's idea for his sister to baby sit Esme during his last weeks away in Dallas. For the moment, she felt that she had no choice- Clifford's tongue could be as bad as his blows, and Esme was loath to incite the man's anger as the end of her pregnancy drew nearer. There was little she could do now, outside of escaping on foot, but with her body constantly reminding her of her condition, she decided it best for now to remain under Evelyn's watchful guard.

Evelyn Brooks' red hair was cut into a stylish bob, and her eyes were the same shade of gray as her brother's. She was ten years Clifford's senior, also brusque, but more pleasant. And it was easy for Esme to see that her sister-in-law was as happy about the situation as Esme was. Having never married, Evelyn resided in that four bedroom house alone, enjoying her privacy and her life of solitude near the ocean. And when it came to her brother's indiscretions, Evelyn had been compelled to look the other way.

Esme's plan, while delayed, was still in place. The money she had withdrawn she had given to her mother with strict instructions to leave the state as soon as possible, determining that once Clifford had caught on to the fact that his wife had departed he would be sure to cut off all funds to her family, and Esme did not want her decision to hurt her loved ones. With a heavy heart, she had told her mother and siblings a final goodbye, not knowing when she would be able to contact them again.

When possible, Esme would sneak to the front room to phone Carlisle, and just as she had been time and time again, was unsuccessful. There were little more than four weeks left until the baby was due, and as each day passed, Esme's longing for the doctor escalated, and that piece of her heart that belonged to him died just a little.

* * *

The staff was not given information about Esme's whereabouts, and amongst themselves concluded that their mistress remained in Atlanta with her family. For as much as their boss informed them, the lady of the house would give birth there in Georgia.

Carlisle and Edward located the house belonging to one Helen Platt - Esme's mother, having found the address in the local telephone directory.

_Stay here._ Carlisle exited the car the next morning, making his pace along the long sidewalk. Clouds loomed overhead and he was not quite sure what he would say to them yet, how to explain that her doctor had come to do a house call all the way from New Orleans, but was grateful for the knowledge of Esme's family that she had given him.

He knocked on the door and a girl of about fourteen years answered who looked remarkably like a younger version of Esme with a longer caramel shade of curls.

"Hello, you must be Mary," Carlisle greeted, using his most appealing voice.

Mary's eyes widened at the sight of the handsome blonde gentleman at the door…who knew her name. "Mama!"

Helen hurried to the door, concerned by her youngest daughter's tone. "Mary!" she reprimanded, but upon taking one look at the man who stood before them her mouth fell open in surprise.

Carlisle had not known what to make of their bewildered expressions. Perhaps it was his skin tone… "Good morning, Mrs. Platt. I did not mean to alarm you, I was wondering if I could speak to Esme?"

Mary covered her mouth, suppressing a giggle, and Helen's mask of concern had now faded into one of curiosity. "Are you…Dr. Cullen?"

* * *

The twinges were what woke Esme from her sleep.

It was close to noon, and since she had left her mother's house in Atlanta, her broken hours of slumber had not yielded her much rest. Esme had maintained her late bedtime schedule, but instead of wandering out to her beloved gardens, she would make her way out to Peace Cliffs. She loved breathing in the salty air of the ocean, and even the baby seemed to come to life with the ocean breeze and starry nights. It made her miss Carlisle even more… Instead she spoke to the little one inside her, uttering soothing words.

"We're going to be fine, my sweet little Robert."

She shifted her position, turning onto her other side. The tightening around her abdomen continued, and grimacing with the pressure, Esme rose. Alarmed, she felt her heart begin to pound. These twinges had begun the day before, but had not been so strong. And without any previous experience with pregnancies, she had not known what to think.

She rushed out to the front room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, not even greeting her sister-in-law who was seated at the table sipping coffee from a mug. Evelyn watched in puzzlement as her brother's rounded wife mumbled to herself with brows furrowed together, and hastily picked up the telephone.

One hand braced her bulging abdomen, and the other dialed Carlisle's number, but as the ringing persisted, the operator returned to the line asking if she wanted to continue, or leave her name if the doctor called. After muttering a polite denial to the operator, Esme cursed and slammed down the phone.

"Good afternoon, Esme!" Evelyn uttered sarcastically. Her brother had warned her of his wife's abnormal behavior.

"Good afternoon, Evelyn," Esme mumbled back, her breath coming out ragged.

"Are you well?"

"I don't know. The baby might be coming."

Evelyn dismissed her words with a laugh. "That's ridiculous. You still have four weeks…"

"Three and a half," Esme corrected. The muscles around her abdomen contracted once again and Esme gasped. "I think that Robert will come when he's ready."

"Robert?" Evelyn asked incredulously. "He? How do you know you're having a boy?"

"I just know," she grumbled, sweat beginning to form at her brow. "The contractions are becoming stronger, Evelyn." Esme's voice was breathless. "Get a doctor!"

* * *

A few hours later, Esme stood at the balcony, overlooking the vast scene of blue water. Her lips moved soundlessly as she whispered comforting words to her abdomen.

Evelyn rushed up the stairs, dragging behind her a young woman whose years were less than Esme's.

"She's here," Evelyn cried, shoving the wide eyed female into Esme's view.

"Hello," Esme greeted, smiling pleasantly.

The young woman nodded, her large brown eyes filled with fear. "Hello ma'am."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Nellie," she replied nervously, her eyes darting around as if to seek escape.

Esme looked to Evelyn for explanation.

Evelyn smiled reassuringly. "Nellie is the midwife."

"I done told you, ma'am. My mama's the midwife!"

Evelyn never let the smile leave her face, wanting to smack the young woman's face. Nellie's mother, who was busy with another expectant mother, had sent her daughter, who had assisted her with many births. The women in their family had passed their knowledge and skills in birthing babies down through the generations, since their ancestors had been brought from Africa. And for this, Evelyn was sure that things would be just fine.

Nellie's mother had insisted, however, that a doctor should be present.

"You'll be just fine, Nellie," Evelyn told her.

Before she could protest, Esme spoke up. "Not to worry. It seems that this afternoon was a false alarm."

Both the young woman and the older breathed a collective sigh. Esme still had three weeks left, after all.

It was then when Esme breathed a loud gasp, and her view turned downward.

"Oh, God!"

"What?" Evelyn asked, fright now lacing her tone as Nellie looked down in horror at the fluid puddled around Esme's feet.

"My water just broke."

* * *

Moonlight was peeking in through the window, and Esme was screaming with each contraction as the duration of each became nearer.

Nellie had overcome her initial fear and had taken to the role as expertly as her mother.

Evelyn was wiping Esme's forehead with cool water, when the young girl spoke. "It shouldn't be too much longer, ma'am," she said, checking for dilation, when upon her examination she discovered something that was completely out of her scope of knowledge.

Her brows came together and she asked Evelyn to join her outside the room. "Ma'am," she said, trembling now, "I can't do this. The baby is the wrong way!"

Evelyn's mouth fell agape, and she peeked in at Esme in horror, forcing a smile to her lips. "Everything's going to be okay, Esme. We'll be right back."

"I'm going to call a doctor!" Evelyn nearly shouted, hoping that by now that she would have more luck than she had earlier. "Stay with her!"

_Twenty minutes later…_

Holding the receiver up to her ear, Evelyn could hear her sister-in-law's groans and screams from downstairs, and was becoming more desperate by the moment. She was angry that this had become her responsibility, that her brother was nowhere to be reached, and that there were no doctors available. Her options were to take her to the hospital, which she did not want to do, or deliver the baby herself. The voice on the other end of the line already promised that either a doctor or ambulance would be there as soon as humanly possible. "I understand. As soon as he can, he'll be here. Okay, we'll do that."

Nellie had joined her and was now pacing the floor of Evelyn's kitchen.

"Listen, Nellie, _we_ are going to have to deliver the baby ourselves. The ambulances are miles out of town, and it seems that every doctor in Harmony is tied up with other emergencies, but they'll send one when there is one available," she said bitterly.

Seeing the panic in the young woman's face, Evelyn spoke calmly. "They said that what we have to do is find…"

She was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell, and the two females rushed to the front door.

"Hello," he greeted, holding up his medical bag. "Mr. Brooks sent me. I'm Dr. Cullen."

Wide-eyed once again, Nellie looked from the handsome doctor to the relief in the gray eyes of the woman who summoned her. "Wow. That was fast."

* * *

He could hear the two heartbeats upstairs, and it was the most beautiful sound his ears had ever heard. Following behind an older woman and another young woman, he realized that Edward was right. From the car outside, the younger vampire's keen ability had detected the emergency. Esme's baby was in a breech position. And now as he found this woman who had captured his heart lying on the bed, her normally glowing skin as white as his, screaming cries of anguish, her pain tore at him like a knife.

"Esme," he said, moving at a quick human pace to the foot of the bed. "I'm here. And everything's going to be fine."

* * *

A/N: Stay tuned...and don't forget to review...please?


	9. The Inevitable

A/N: First of all, a big thanks to my reviewers- your kind words have really inspired me. And on a more sour note, just a warning- this chapter is not pretty...

Chapter 9- The Inevitable

The soft wail of the newborn's cry sent a dizzying flood of emotions rushing through Esme, startling her into consciousness. In the past hours her body had been assaulted by pain, her mind had been tormented with worry; her very existence hung by a thread, knowing that deep in her heart that this baby inside her was her sole reason for existing. Things up until that point had appeared dire, and she was not sure if either she or the little one would make it through. But when she heard the angelic, musical voice of the man she had come to love along with his confident assurances, only then did sweet relief sweep through her like the warming rays of the sun…

Carlisle. He was there, and at that moment she could not think about where he had come from, or how he had arrived there in Harmony. Esme could only feel comforted that his presence would ease her and her baby safely through the realm of the unexpected. The last thing she remembered clearly was the sting of the needle as it entered her arm, which in comparison to the violent contractions, was like a kiss on the forehead.

"You have a healthy baby boy, Esme," he told her proudly, handing the swaddled newborn to Esme. Though he had delivered thousands of babies in his lifetime, Carlisle was in awe of the connection he felt to this one. Perhaps it was because he had not previously followed the mother from pregnancy to birth, or maybe it was because this little life was a part of Esme, and through her he shared in her joy.

In shock, she accepted the bundle into her arms without any memory of giving birth. "Hello, Robert," she greeted, slowly coming out of the fog that was her mind. Tears of joy now fell from her eyes. With bluish gray eyes, the small one simply looked at her. A crown of black fuzz adorned his round little head, and he was so quiet as he absorbed the many new sights and smells. Esme's gaze fell to her son in awe, touching the softness of his tiny knuckles. "He's so tiny."

Carlisle had joined them at their bedside. "He is a few weeks early, but it doesn't seem to pose a problem. Many premature babies grow up healthy and happy."

Cradling the baby with one hand close to her chest, she reached out her other hand to grasp the doctor's. "Thank you, Carlisle," she whispered gratefully. She did not like to think how very different this scene could have been had he not shown up exactly when he had.

He smiled in response, giving a very light squeeze to her hand in return. He found himself taken by the scene of mother and child; how easy, he thought, to imagine the three of them together – it was a beautiful scene - one happy little family. Esme, though tired and disoriented from the powerful pain relievers he had administered, was smiling and cooing down at her bundle of joy. Her normal peaches and cream color had returned. And as he stood there basking in the glow of their love, he almost felt human himself.

Unfortunately, Nellie would be returning soon from fetching clean linens at Carlisle's request, and he could already hear the sound of Evelyn shouting downstairs at the operator on the telephone. He wished that he could have just a few more moments to share with the happy couple, but as always he knew he had no right to linger.

"I must go," he told her, scribbling words on a piece of paper.

"Why? Carlisle, no wait. I have to talk to you!" she told him urgently, the lines on her forehead creasing. Distressed, her gaze moved back and forth from baby to doctor.

His ears could already hear the steps of the young midwife as she approached.

"There's no time," he told Esme, handing her his note. He then proceeded to pull some tablets out of a small bottle and placed them at her bedside. "This will help with the pain."

The young woman burst in, and Esme inwardly cursed, furtively slipping the note under her blanket. She knew that between the young girl and her sister-in-law's presence that she would not have the alone time with the doctor that she so desired.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Brooks," Carlisle told her formally and thanked Nellie for her help as well.

To Nellie, the blonde doctor/gentleman was nothing short of a god, and with her large brown admiring eyes, she giggled. "Thank _you,_ Dr. Cullen."

He took his bag in one hand and bade goodbye to the new mother and infant son. The shrill sound of Evelyn's voice escalated his pace right out the front door. It was a needed distraction; he was hoping to avoid any questions or confrontations.

Evelyn angrily slammed the receiver back down onto its cradle. It had been a long and tiresome day for her as well, and her no good brother was nowhere to be found. To her extreme dismay, a trip to Western Union would be necessary, and Evelyn so hated to leave the house, often relying on outside help to tend to her errands. The only consolation that she had was that Clifford had cared enough to send the doctor to check on Esme; otherwise she would not have believed that he had cared at all.

This whole event was miraculous and inconvenient, but she now had a nephew, and as troublesome as the little bugger was sure to be, Evelyn was drawn back upstairs toward the soft sound of the baby's cries, suddenly summoned by years worth of suppressed maternal instincts. Her anger seemed to slip away then, and with a smile she joined Esme and her darling little nephew.

Two evenings later…

_Clifford _stop_ You have a son _stop_ Waste no time in arriving here _stop_ lest I come and hunt you down myself _stop_ Evelyn _

The politician could hardly ignore the telegram. His sister had, in fact, sent several to many possible locations. He found himself surprised…and secretly pleased; he now had a son, a boy in which to carry on his name. Surely now his wife would be happy…

He made his way through Evelyn's front door without knocking, assumingly, entering and climbing the stairs to greet them. At that moment, he found his wife being helped to another room by a young woman who stared at him with wide eyes. Next, he found his older sister glaring at him in the doorway as she cradled the newborn in her arms.

"It's about _time,_" she told him curtly, cradling the infant within his view so he could see for himself the result of his irresponsibility. She could not hold a grudge, though, for young Robert was quiet and sweet, and with every small noise he emitted she felt a certain tug at her heart strings. Her brother had not time to even form a retort. "It's a good thing you sent Dr. Cullen, Clifford. So far, that's the _only_ good thing you've done in all this mess."

He raised his eyebrows in puzzlement. He had ordered no such action. There had to be some mistake, he thought. Surely, Dr. Cullen was in New Orleans at that very moment…he was supposed to be…

Before he could argue or even get a good look at the newborn, she pointed back with a stern index finger toward the room. "Grab his bottle, Clifford," she commanded with raised eyebrows, and then headed toward the adjoining room. "Make yourself useful."

Quickly he took notice of the baby bottle atop the nightstand, but as he lifted it, his gaze fell toward a piece of paper that had fallen to the floor. Curious, he opened it, and as the words pierced through his very soul, he felt the blood rage beneath his skin.

_Esme,_

_Do not worry. We will be together soon and will speak privately. I have gone back to New Orleans to collect some belongings and will return shortly. Put your faith in the staff at Harmony County Hospital. They are my former coworkers and will assist in any way possible should any emergencies arise._

_All my best to you and Robert,_

_C. _

It suddenly made sense to him. The withdrawal of money, the secrecy, the handsome young doctor appearing mysteriously from New Orleans…

Clifford took the already worn sheet of paper and crumpled it into his hand.

* * *

After he entered her room, he closed the door behind him.

Esme put on her best smile as she greeted her husband. As much as she had hoped that Evelyn would not send for her brother, it was unavoidable. Clifford had not greeted her back, but rather took slow, deliberate steps toward her and the baby, who were now both rocking back and forth in the rocking chair beside the bed. He reached out to touch the tiny hand of his son, his face filled with wonder at the way the tiny fingers wrapped around his own - huge in comparison. There appeared to be mixed emotions in his expression. Pride…joy; at that moment, Esme even had hope for the man. With the birth of this baby, he could possibly be changed forever…

He said nothing, but she soon found that his face was quickly turning an alarming shade of red. Esme knew this look, and for her this was the calm before the storm. He was angry, although she had no way of knowing why. Past experience told her that he had not even required a reason, using her as way of relieving his temper. For one moment, she wondered what she had done with Carlisle's note…As she was seized by an awful fear in the pit of her stomach, she tried to ease the terrified pounding of her heart. Her gaze slid back toward her beloved son, holding him tighter now, but continuing to rock him gently. Cooing down at her wide-eyed little Robert, she waited and prayed that her husband would turn around and leave them be. He did so, in a huff, and as Esme expected he stomped down the stairs very likely in search of Evelyn's liquor cabinet.

She breathed a sigh of relief as his rotund figured disappeared from her sight and closed the door behind him. At least she felt safe… for now, but still wished that Carlisle would return soon, and hopefully not appear when Clifford was present. Meanwhile she knew that her husband was not likely to explode into one of his outbursts with his sister there. Tenderly, her lips pressed a gentle kiss to the baby's forehead, and she inhaled the sweet smell of his skin.

"Everything is going to be fine, Robert," she whispered to the little one who stared up at her curiously. She only wished that those words could be true.

* * *

Evelyn did not like this at all as she climbed into the carriage. Her brother had been drinking…too much. His words were nearly slurred as he ordered her out of her own house, commanding her in the dark of night to purchase some items for the baby. She hated when he was like this; it reminded her of their father's violent tendencies, and as inconvenient as this was for her to have to fetch a carriage, Evelyn now feared for Esme and Robert's safety. Nellie had gone home hours before, and no amount of reasoning with her brother was getting through to him. Upon standing up to him and refusing, he promptly threatened to not only remove her forcibly, but also cast her out on the streets with no home to return to. Indeed, the man could be cruel, and the thing that frightened her even more was that he always made good on his threats.

* * *

"I have a bad feeling, Carlisle," Edward told him as they drove, now crossing the border from Louisiana into Mississippi.

The speed of the vehicle was disturbingly limited, and many times he had considered running, but if they were to be in Harmony for a period of time, Carlisle thought it best to have some clothing and other belongings. He had told her in his note that he was returning, hoping that she would remain where she was. Traveling to New Orleans now would not be good for her or for the baby.

"Just a few more hours," Carlisle assured him.

Though his spoken words were meant to sound reassuring, Edward could read the anxiety in Carlisle's thoughts. Apparently Edward was not the only one who feared for the safety of mother and child, despite the fact that Carlisle had delivered the baby two days prior, and she had been left in good hands.

With Brooks two states away, there should not have been any cause for concern…should there?

* * *

He had not raped her. That was the only kindness that Clifford Brooks had shown his fragile wife.

Esme was upstairs checking on Robert as he slept, when she heard the sudden thunder of her husband's entrance. He wasted no time in charging at her, and as he took the steps two at a time, Esme had guarded the doorway to her room with her life. The baby had awakened at the roar of Clifford's bellows, and now cries began to ring out from his bassinet. In a fit of panic, she closed the door, leading her inebriated husband away from the helpless newborn, instinctively feeling that his threats were not intended for his son. Before the palm of his hand could assault her cheek, her knee rose of its own accord, delivering a blow to the front of his pants. Her hope had been to knock him down to give herself time to collect little Robert and flee from the house, but unfortunately, the unpleasant connection from knee to groin did little more than cause him to pause for a moment; his mouth fell open wide and a big blue vein bulged in his forehead.

Furiously, he growled at her, grabbing her by the wrists. Her heart was in her throat as she screamed and pleaded with him to stop, but Clifford was deaf to her pleas as he proceeded to lead her to the staircase and then shove her body down the stairs. As she bounced off each step she could feel the painful jabs into her flesh from the jutting edges, the twisting spasms of her limbs as she rolled, and finally the aimless plunge to the bottom, thrusting the back of her head forcefully into the hard wood floor. Injured, dizzy, and out of breath, she gasped for air. Every inch of her ached, and as the pain seared through her right arm, she feared she could not lift it. Her left hand reached to the throbbing in the back of her skull, feeling a warm moistness oozing outward. The crimson on her fingers confirmed it. Blood…but somehow she was still alive - by the grace of God - still conscious…and she could still hear his demeaning insults as he came at her with charging footsteps. But, she could also hear Robert's cries from upstairs, and with tears of despair, she knew she could not go to him. Her body was weak, and with two of her limbs either sprained or broken, Esme tried to crawl away, but Clifford's steps quickly descended upon her.

Clearly, he was not finished with her - not yet.

Two strong arms pulled her up to her feet to meet his murderous glare. With each blow of his fist, his accusations shook the house with overwhelming ferocity, and Esme trembled with horror, her ears ringing as he scolded her for violating their marriage.

With each slam of her body into the wall, she shrunk backward in terror as he reprimanded her for stealing his money while the stench of his alcohol-ridden breath suffocated her. The barbarian did not give her the chance to speak nor did he care to hear explanations.

And as the beast cruelly threaded his fingers into her hair, thrusting her chin upward to meet his maniacal gaze, he informed his wife that if she so much as spoke the name of her lover, Dr. Cullen that the handsome young man would never find employment in the south again. Esme's mind reeled from his words, and the sting of his grasp left her sobbing. And, last but not least, in a voice that caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise, he informed her that if she ever even thought of leaving him again, she would sooner pray for the mercy of death.

And still she heard the baby's cries…but they soon grew softer.

She hardly heard her tormentor's last insult as he smashed his fist into her face, causing a blinding pain to radiate from her nose, exploding to the back of her skull. Esme's body then fell like a rag doll to the floor with a crashing thud. The last thing she remembered was the slamming of the front door as he stormed outside.

* * *

When Esme came to, the house was dark and quiet. Unaware of how many minutes or hours had passed, her eyes blinked open, and the excruciating pain from every limb, every muscle, every inch of flesh reminded her of what had taken place. Sitting up, she rubbed the ache in the back of her head, feeling the coarseness of the dried blood, and then rose to a standing position. She hunched over, taking slow steps as the bones in her legs begged for mercy, and tottered her way to the staircase. Her vision was narrowed by the swollen puffiness of her cheeks, and with a feeling of trepidation that spread through her veins like poison, she stared up at the insurmountable number of steps to the second story.

A horrific realization hit her then like a ton of bricks. Robert was no longer crying, and as she hurried her injured body up the staircase, she prayed to God now that her baby was safe.

Calling out to her son, she limped her way quickly to the door and shoved it open. It appeared at first that her baby was sleeping, but as she reached the bassinet, her eyes found him laying on his back – perfectly still. Her arms cried their aching protest as she reached for him and placed his small body against her chest. And as she shook her head in denial at the newborn laying lifeless in her grasp, she frantically tested his limbs for movement, begging him to stir, pleading with the newborn to open his eyes, all the while praying to God and all of heaven for her son to awaken.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she bent her ear down to his chest, listening for his heartbeat - that confirmation of his life that had made her own worth living. But with its absence, the only sound that could be heard from that room was the heartrending cry of Esme's loss.

* * *

A/N: There's not too much left now. Thanks for reading, and as always, please let me know what you think :)


	10. The Demise

**A/N: Here is a bonus Mother's Day chapter for you (even though it is "The Demise" and shorter than my usual), wishing all the mothers out there much happiness and many kisses and hugs on this special day. **

**Chapter 10 – The Demise**

There was nothing left for her now.

After trying in vain for several more minutes, Esme had continued her futile attempts to awaken her sweet Robert. His heart no longer beat in his tiny little chest, nor did any air escape his angelic little mouth. She could not understand why this had happened, but had only reached one bitter, devastating conclusion.

She was being punished.

Esme quickly concluded that the blame was hers. If she had not grown close to Carlisle, much less harbored feelings for the doctor, then perhaps she could have remained content with her life. Clifford may not have beaten her due to her alleged infidelity, and the even more difficult realization to fathom was that her baby would not now be lying dead in her arms as she felt the warmth slowly fade from his lifeless body.

* * *

Evelyn had tossed and turned in her bed. It had been a horrendous night, and she felt that she had only herself to blame. After deliberating for too long, she had finally gathered the courage and returned with the police to her home. Clifford's car was gone, and to her horror, there were spatters of blood on her floors and walls. A bitter realization stabbed at Evelyn with the force of a knife; she had been too late. Seeing the proof of her brother's temper taken out on poor Esme was almost too much to bear. But then finding her sister-in-law sobbing, hunched over the baby in her arms, Evelyn knew that image would haunt her for years to come.

* * *

Edward's brows were furrowed in concentration as he and Carlisle crouched outside Evelyn's window. It was still dark out, though dawn was not far off, and with the presence of only one heartbeat in the house, both vampires sought explanation.

Carlisle waited as patiently as he could, watching his adopted son's expression turn from anger to grief. _What is it?_

The younger vampire turned to him then. He was sure that this news would devastate his adopted father. "Brooks was here; he beat up Esme and then left…" He paused as Carlisle's own expressions and thoughts turned from regret to rage. They had been too late to protect her… And, he had not yet told Carlisle the worst part.

_And the baby?_

Edward could not meet the combination of horror and worry in Carlisle's eyes. "When Esme came to…she found the baby not breathing."

Carlisle stood, and his jaw clenched tightly. He pushed away the anger; it would not do anyone any good. "Where are they?" he asked, ready to take action.

"The baby is being examined at the hospital."

Putting his fury aside for the moment, he sighed and looked Edward in the eyes. "I need you to stay here, son…in case that monster returns."

_If he comes back, take care of him. _

He had not said the words aloud, but Edward felt alarmed by his adopted father's thoughts, having never recalled an instance where violence had been acceptable. This tragedy, though, was too great, even for Carlisle, and as the doctor sped off at the car's maximum speed, he hoped that things would be all right.

Edward resumed listening to Evelyn as she tossed and turned in her bed, hoping to learn any other details, but the woman's thoughts were becoming jumbled as sleep quickly consumed her consciousness. Acting as a watch guard, Edward roamed the property, still unable to believe what had taken place in the last few hours; he was ready, planning what he would do if Brooks returned…it would have to be very slow and very painful…

He then noticed out of the corner of his eye a set of footprints that continued along the dirt path out onto the street…

* * *

Esme had hobbled from Evelyn's home in the small hours of the morning. She had expressly refused to go with her son to the hospital or see to her own affliction, convincing Evelyn and the police that the extents of her injuries were sprains, cuts, and bruises. Wrought with grief herself, Evelyn had helped her clean up, and insisted that she get some rest. The autopsy would be performed, and the rest could be dealt with the following day.

Carlisle's note had informed Esme that the staff at the hospital would be willing to help her, but now, the last thing she wanted was to explain that while her baby cried, she could do nothing while the little one was being summoned to heaven. Esme was being punished, and for that her infant had paid with his life.

With tears that blinded her vision, she somehow made her way to Peace Cliffs. Her bones ached with each step, her broken right arm hung limply at her side, and pain seared through her ankle and leg. She did not feel it, though, simply because the most important organ of all had been shattered, broken, irreparable - her heart. There was nothing left for her.

Her thoughts could not turn to Carlisle; she dared not allow it. As though losing her baby was not tragic enough, she could not bear the guilt that went with the good doctor having to leave his home, rejected by as many of the hospitals in the South that her wicked husband's influence had wielded. For her, there was one last option, one that Esme had considered for the second time in her life:

She did not want to live.

Far better it was to suffer the fiery flames of Hell than live in misery with her husband. He was too powerful, too fierce, and if she had left him, the rest of her days would be lived in fear.

She did not want it anymore…After experiencing lifetimes worth of pain, her soul yearned for the peace that death seemed to dangle over her like a life preserver. It felt like she was drowning already, drowning in misery, in guilt, in regret.

As she stood at the shelf of the precipice, her gaze fell downward, numbly staring at the jagged rocks below. The salt water thrashed violently, undulating with rage against the jutting formations. A gust of wind caused her body to shudder as goose bumps arose from her flesh, and for a fleeting moment, it seemingly pulled her away from the cliff's perilous edge. She could not bring herself to fear the steep drop; its beauty was in its promise, the promise of death.

Esme closed her eyes, stepped forward, and with all the strength her aching legs could muster, she leapt…

* * *

_She's not here. _

Carlisle was puzzled. He had expected either to find Esme being treated in the emergency room, or to be spending the last moments with her baby until the autopsy was performed.

She had not been at Evelyn's home and had not left with her husband. _Where could she be?_

His eyes examined the baby's file once again, and with a sigh, a fresh wave of regret washed over him like a tidal wave. Having friendly relations with the staff, it had been easy for Carlisle to gain access to the records, and without displaying any special concern he had not incited any suspicion, simply stating that he had returned to Harmony for a short period of time. With open arms they welcomed him back, and the older receptionist smiled widely as she now approached him.

"Dr. Cullen," she said, her eyes roaming his handsome face appreciatively. "There's a man named Edward downstairs looking for you."

The young man's clothing and bronze hair were damp, and there was something grave about the look in Edward's eyes as he led him out the front doors of the hospital.

_What is it? _

Edward looked to Carlisle, pain written in his expression. "I found Esme."

That was good news. Carlisle brightened for just a moment, but then a sinking feeling overpowered it at the sight of Edward's distress. "Where is she?"

"She jumped off the cliff, Carlisle," he told him slowly, watching as the anguish crept across his creator's features. "I think that Esme is dead."

* * *

A/N: Okay, so I couldn't leave it like this. One chapter to go and a short one at that. Hang in there with me, and as always, please review!


	11. Epilogue

**A/N: Wow, this is truly my shortest story ever! First of all, I'd like to give my neverending thanks to my beta Truckingal who encouraged me to proceed with the story and has given me endless assistance. I'd also like to thank EliseShaw for her fabulous support and feedback, grayseal for being a fantastic inputter, as well as my other reviewers who have submitted 3 or more, MouMou38, LivingDaylights, ultraaviolett-x, and CarlisleEsmeFan. Also a warm thanks to catharticone and Jasper4eva for your especially kind words. Thanks as well to the rest of you- your input has meant so much to me! And if you haven't already, check out this link - http://moumou38dotdeviantartdotcom/art/The-Demise-of-Esme-124333013- it is a beautiful drawing that MouMou38 has drawn in tribute to one of the garden scenes. **

**Epilogue**

_Love's First Bite_

It had been a devastating turn of events, and Carlisle was sick with worry, sick with fear that he had lost Esme forever.

However, Edward had been wrong. Esme's limbs had been twisted, her face swollen and disfigured, and her body riddled with lacerations, but one thing he had not heard was something that Carlisle's ears picked up as he laid his head upon her chest.

Her heart, though very faint, was still beating.

For all of his years of medical training, the many specialties and degrees he held, there was not a thing he could do for her. No amount of science or surgery could mend her wounds, no medicine, no prayers… Indeed, in a very short time, the cruel hands of death would claim her.

Edward had secured a room at the local inn, and before the light of dawn could brighten the eastern sky, the pair discreetly moved Esme's mangled body inside. Battling with himself, his conscience, and God, Carlisle set Esme's wet body gently down onto the bed.

Carlisle felt sorry, sorry for what he was, sorry for what he could not be, and very sorry that he could not have prevented this…

Tenderly, he brushed the damp, knotted black and caramel locks of her blood-encrusted hair onto her pillow.

Edward, who had felt Carlisle's crushing grief with his every thought, had not known what to say to him. He had not even known the woman, only having seen Esme from a distance and in Carlisle's thoughts. For them, this was the tragedy of all tragedies, and there was but one thing the older vampire could do for her, but he wondered now in the face of it, if Carlisle would initiate it. It was the most plausible option. Otherwise, Edward realized with certainty that his mentor would be doomed to walk the earth forever, always knowing that he could have saved her.

There was a question that haunted them both. Did she want to be saved? She had already made the conscious choice to die.

_Edward, give me a moment, please_.

The decision weighed heavily upon him, and there was not much time left to decide. Dejected, Edward patted his adopted father on the shoulder and left him alone with his thoughts.

Carlisle fell to a kneeling position at Esme's bedside, his eyes unable to shed the tears his heart commanded at the sight of her crippled body. Once again, he set his ear to her chest. Her heart…it still lay beating faintly within her body, fighting for her life…but not for much longer.

When he had changed Edward, the young man's heart was still strong, but now, Carlisle wondered, hoped he had not wasted away the opportunity with their delay.

"Esme," he whispered suddenly, leaning to her left ear- to the one side of her face that vaguely resembled her former self. Beneath the marred flesh, the crooked nose, the misshapen lips, his perfect memory still recalled her beauty. It was then that a thousand images of her face flooded his mind – With perfect clarity, Carlisle could still feel the warmth in her eyes when she had set her gaze upon him, he could imagine each of the dozens of different smiles that curved her ruby lips, he could hear her gentle words whispering.

"I can't let you die," he continued, thinking that he had soon detected a very vague murmur in her heartbeat, which encouraged him to continue. "Please forgive me."

Her dark brown eyes were still and vacant, and before he could talk himself out of it, Carlisle summoned the venom to flood his teeth and lifted her scratched chin, lowered her collar, and easily located the carotid artery that still faintly pulsed with life beneath her flesh. In one final apology, he uttered the words he had never before said to another woman.

"I love you, Esme."

His jaw opened then, and Carlisle's razor sharp teeth descended upon the fragile skin of her neck…

_The End_

* * *

A/N: So now that the story of Esme's demise has concluded, please leave a review and let me know what you think because every opinion matters! **And please check out my new fic "Remember Me" - E/B, inspired by the movie _50 First Dates_. Check it out! :)**


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